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LAUGHTER  LIMITED 
NINA  WILCOX  PUTNAM 


LAUGHTER 
LIMITED 


BY 

NINA  WILCOX  PUTNAM 

AUTHOR  OF  "TOMORROW  WE  DIET,"  "IT  PAYS  TO  SMILE," 
"WEST  BROADWAY,"  "ADAM'S  GARDEN,"  ETC. 


NEW  >JijP  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,    1922, 
BY  GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,    1922,  BY  THE  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


LAUGHTER  LIMITED.     II 
PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


TO 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN 

IN  FRIENDSHIP  AND  FAITH 
N.  W.  P. 


2137796 


LAUGHTER  LIMITED 


LAUGHTER  LIMITED 


INTRODUCTION 

'IT THEN  some  people  write  the  story  of  their  life  it 
*  *  is  a  sign  that  they  are  dead.  Take  Johnson,  the 
one  that  Boswell  wrote  the  scenario  for.  And  look 
how  Shakspere  wrote  about  Caesar  after  somebody  had 
handed  him  a  haymaker.  And  now  watch  Mr.  Tu- 
multy. And  so  forth. 

There  are  in  the  motion-picture  world  also  a  class  of 
dead  ones  who  allow  somebody  else  to  write  their  biog- 
raphy. Dead  from  the  neck  up,  anyways.  They  may 
be  alive  as  stars  all  right,  but  they  couldn't  write  a 
continuity  for  the  story  of  a  custard  pie.  So  when  one 
of  the  trade  or  fan  papers  decides  to  shove  a  piece  of 
their  private  history  before  the  public  for  consideration 
of  one  dollar  in  hand  paid  and  other  good  and  valua- 
ble consideration,  why,  all  the  star  generally  does  is 
sign  the  piece  and  'phone  down  to  the  publicity  depart- 
ment for  some  new  stills. 

As  a  result  there  is  a  lot  of  misunderstanding  in  the 
public  mind  about  what  goes  on  in  pictures.  I  mean 
about  the  real  inside  dope.  Some  have  the  idea  that 
we  are  a  bunch  of  sky  chasers  who  never  hit  anything 
lower  than  the  roof  of  the  Singer  Building,  and  are 
morally  as  bad  if  not  worse  than  what  they  think  rich 

9 


10  Laughter  Limited 

society  people  are.  But  these  of  course  are  not  the 
sappy  fans  who  believe  what  they  read  in  the  picture 
magazines.  These  latter  go  around  with  the  cuckoo 
illusion  that  a  motion-picture  star's  private  life  is  all 
front  lawn,  white  flannel  clothes,  dainty  children  and 
sweet  mothers,  the  whole  served  with  vanilla  sauce,  and 
tinctured  with  extract  of  noble  sentiment.  While  as 
a  plain  matter  of  fact  neither  type  of  fan  is  correct. 

Realizing  it  to  be  high  time  somebody  who  knew  told 
the  truth  about  pictures  and  picture  people  was  what 
decided  me  on  writing  my  own  story  instead  of  mak- 
ing my  mark  just  under  the  Tille  on  the  stuff  Benny 
had  sent  up  to  me  from  our  lot. 

"Miss  Delane,"  says  young  Mr.  Rolf,  our  publicity 
head,  flapping  a  fat  typewritten  manuscript  at  me. 
"The  Big  Egg  has  O.K.'d  this  script  for  Closeups.  It's 
your  autobiography  and  it  ought  to  go  over  big.  Kate 
Kinner  wrote  it — the  girl  who  did  your  How-I-Brush- 
My-Teeth  story,  and  that  thing  of  yours  about  The 
Way  to  Hold  Men,  for  the  same  magazine." 

"Give  me  it,"  I  says,  reaching  for  the  dope  sheet; 
and  he  did,  and  this  is  what  I  saw : 

MY  PAST  AND   MY  PEOPLE 

Bonnie  Delane,  Famous  Silvermount  Star,  tells  her 
own  story  exclusively  for  Closeups  Magazine.  The  inner 
life  of  America's  best-known  picture  actress  revealed  for 
the  first  time  for  Closeup  readers. 

"Oh,  is  that  a  fact?"  I  says,  very  much  interested. 
"This  is  a  revelation  not  only  to  the  public  but  to  me. 
How  does  your  department  get  that  way,  anyhow?" 


Laughter  Limited  11 

"Oh,  it's  a  good  story,"  says  Slim  Rolf  hastily. 
"You'll  like  it.  We  start  you  out  the  daughter  of  a 
Spanish  countess  and  describe  your  father,  the  general, 
and  how  you  went  to  the  most  exclusive  schools  and 
convents  until  the  big  smash  came,  and " 

"Hold !"  I  says.  "Big  smash  is  well  said !  And  as 
for  old  General  Debility — say,  Slim,  how  far  do  you 
think  you  can  go,  anyways?  With  your  imagination 
you  ought  to  be  in  the  scenario  department." 

"Well,  far  be  it  from  me  to  tell  the  truth  on  you, 
honey,"  says  Rolf  with  a  grin. 

"That's  a  nasty  crack  from  a  broken  little  mug  like 
you!"  I  says.  "What's  the  matter  with  introducing 
a  little  truth  into  pictures  for  a  novelty?" 

"What  do  you  want  to  do — wreck  the.  industry?" 
says  he. 

"Say,  listen !"  I  says.  "If  the  industry  could  of  been 
wrecked  it  would  of  happened  long  ago,  with  the  bunch 
of  clowns  running  it  that  is!  Nix!  Pictures  are  too 
strong  ever  to  be  wrecked  by  anything  unless  it's  this 
continual  false  front  the  ones  that  is  in  it  keeps  up  all 
the  time." 

"Whatter  you  mean,  false  front?"  says  Rolf. 

"I  mean  in  every  department!"  I  says.  "And  in 
practically  every  concern.  Also  in  the  private  lives  of 
actors  and  etcetera.  You  know  as  good  as  I  do,  Rolfie, 
that  we  as  a  industry,  generally  speaking,  have  got  into 
the  habit  of  thinking  that  we  could  get  away  with  mur- 
der if  only  we  kept  on  showing  a  baby-blue  side  to  the 
public  and  advertising  it  enough.  Sweet  daddy!  If 
the  picture  people  really  lived  the  lives  the  picture 


12  Laughter  Limited 

magazines  attribute  to  them  they  would  all  be  dead 
of  anaemia  long  ago!" 

"Ennui !"  says  Slim. 

"Well,  something  weakening!"  I  conceded.  "And 
say.  honey,"  I  went  on,  "you  don't  for  one  minute  think 
the  public  believes  that  guff,  do  you  ?" 

"They  buy  it,"  he  pointed  out.  "You  see,  Bonnie, 
they  don't  want  to  know  the  truth !" 

"Don't  they,  though!"  I  exclaimed.  "Say,  listen! 
There's  nothing  in  the  world  they  would  rather  know. 
Pictures  are  the  biggest,  most  important  art  in  the 
world  to-day  and  have  got  the  biggest  future  of  any, 
and  the  public  knows  it.  Also  the  public  hears  a  lot 
of  dope  about  wild  times,  big  money,  crooked  con- 
tracts, and  something-for-nothing  generally;  and  as  it 
is  their  admission  money  which  is  being  spent  that  way, 
they  are  interested.  Also  because  of  the  glamour  of  it, 
Slim,  but  most  of  all  because  pictures  have  come  to 
stay — people  believe  in  them,  and  with  cause.  They 
are  the  greatest " 

"Whoa !"  says  Rolfie.  "Any  time  you  get  fired  come 
over  to  the  hot-air  department  and  see  me." 

"But  I  mean  it!"  I  says  earnestly.  "This  is  the 
greatest  art-industry  in  the  world,  and  truth  would 
never  hurt  it ;  truth,  you  know,  kid,  never  injured  any 
innocent  party  yet!" 

"Have  a  heart!"  says  Slim.  "When  did  pictures 
get  so  pure?  How  about  the  B.  and  G.  merger?  And 
Reggie's  contract  with  Goldringer — eh?" 

"Oh,  I  know  there  is  plenty  of  crooks  out  of  jail," 
I  says  impatiently,  "but  they  are  not  all  in  the  picture 


Laughter  Limited  13 

business.  There  are  also  plenty  of  angels  out  of 
heaven,  and  they  are  not  all  registered  exclusively  with 
us,  either.  And  my  publishing  twelve  installments  of 
fumigated  biography  isn't  going  to  fool  anybody. 
Why,  nobody  could  be  as  pure  or  as  swell  as  this 
stuff  makes  me  out,  and  live!  I  refuse  to  let  it 
be  printed." 

"The  hell  you  say!"  remarked  Slim.  "Well,  the 
magazine  has  contracted  for  your  life  story,  and  we 
got  to  deliver.  Besides,  think  of  the  publicity!" 

"All  right!"  I  says,  inspired.  "I  got  nothing  to  do 
for  the  next  week;  I'll  write  it  myself!" 

Rolf  looked  at  me  as  if  he'd  overdrawn  at  the  bank. 

"Well,  go  easy,  now!"  he  says  uncomfortably.  "Of 
course  you  are  your  own  boss  and  can  do  as  you  like, 
but  just  kindly  remember  you  are  under  no  real  neces- 
sity to  tell  on  the  family." 

"I'll  tell  nothing  uncalled  for,"  I  says.  "Although, 
of  course,  no  matter  what  I  write  somebody  will  be 
sure  to  kick  about  it." 

"And  you'll  publish  what  you  write?"  says  Slim, 
wrinkling  up  his  nose  in  a  troubled  way  he  has. 

"I  will,"  I  says,  firm  as  an  old  maid  at  the  altar. 

"That's  a  hell  of  a  note!"  says  Rolf.  "Well,  I 
wisht  you'd  leave  me  see  it  before  it  goes  out." 

"Nix!"  I  replied. 

"But  there's  likely  to  be  mistakes  in  grammar  and 
everything!"  Rolfie  objected  frankly. 

"There  will  be,  in  the  grammar,"  I  said.  "But  no 
editing  from  you,  much  obliged  just  the  same!" 

"Well,  don't  put  any  salt  on  the  tail  of  any  boom- 


14  Laughter  Limited 

erang,  that's  all,  Bonnie,"  says  Slim,  gloomily  picking 
up  his  kelly  and  the  rejected  script,  "or  you  might 
catch  it  in  the  neck  yourself!" 

Flashing  which  melancholy  subtitle  he  departed,  and 
left  me  stacked  up  against  the  big  proposition  which 
I  had  undertaken. 

Well,  after  Slim  had  gone  I  got  to  thinking  the 
matter  over,  and  the  more  I  thought  the  greater  amount 
of  enjoyment  I  got  out  of  it. 

To  begin  with,  everybody  will  realize  how  much 
pleasure  it  is  for  any  woman  to  talk  about  herself. 
And  further,  the  merest  dumb-bell  will  realize  what 
a  kick  is  to  be  got  out  of  telling  the  story  of  one's  life. 
Anybody  will  do  it — just  give  'em  the  chance,  that's 
all !  Of  course  the  habit  is  mostly  confined  to  drunks, 
but  pretty  nearly  anyone  will  come  across  after  a 
little  urging,  and  some,  on  the  contrary,  you  can't 
stop  from  doing  it.  Lacking  the  chance  to  recite  the 
story  of  our  life  the  next  best  thing  is  to  write  it. 
And  in  either  case  the  beginning  is  apt  to  be  a  bore. 

Nobody  but  yourself  cares  about  how  you  felt  as  a 
kid,  or  your  awakening  to  the  big  problem  of  there-is- 
no-Santa-Claus,  and  other  religious  convictions.  And 
the  chief  reason  for  this  is  that  life  doesn't  really  begin 
until  you  go  out  into  it. 

So  I  decided  to  let  the  reader  take  for  granted  that 
I  was  born  in  my  native  town,  and  et  cetera,  and  com- 
mence with  my  own  start,  which  really  began  on  the 
opening  night  of  The  Stonybrook  Follies  of  1920. 
And  I  also  decided  not  to  have  any  fool  title  to  this 


Laughter  Limited  15 

biography,  such  as  they  run  in  the  ordinary  picture 
magazine,  but  to  call  it  by  the  simple  plain  name  of 

THE  REAL  STORY  OF 

BONNIE  DELANE'S  STARTLING  CAREER 

—BY  HERSELF 


CHAPTER  I 

T  NEVER  could  of  done  it  if  I  had  known  Strick; 
•*•  was  in  the  audience.  You  know  how  it  is,  per 
haps.  You  can  make  a  swell  snappy  speech  at  th 
stag  dinner,  but  only  stutter  if  friend  wife  is  amongs 
those  present.  Or  if  your  sweetie  is  down  front,  th< 
valedictory  which  sounded  so  well  in  front  of  you 
bedroom  mirror  comes  out  like  the  contents  of  a  non 
refillable  bottle,  in  little  spouts  and  dashes. 

So  it's  a  good  thing  I  didn't  know  Strick  was  ther 
until  afterward,  although  why  I  didn't  see  him  when 
looked  out  at  the  audience  from  behind  the  curtains  o 
the  high-school-auditorium  stage  is  a  wonder  to  me 
because  to  begin  with  he  was  a  complete  stranger  t< 
our  town  and  was  sitting  all  the  time  with  Bert  Green 
our  leading  and  only  photographer,  and  I  was  kin< 
of  looking  for  old  Bert  Green,  he  being  a  particula 
friend  of  mine  and  had  taken  a  lot  of  photos  of  m< 
free,  on  account  of  my  map  going  so  well  in  hi 
showcase. 

But  some  way  or  another  I  missed  seeing  either  o 
those  boys.  You  know  the  way  a  big  hall  seatinj 
nearly  three  hundred  people  and  all  lit  up  with  a  dozei 
or  more  electric  lights  looks  from  the  stage- 
sort  of  blurry  and  confusing.  I  could  hardly  tell  on 
from  another,  except,  of  course,  pop,  but  then  I  ha< 
bought  his  seat  myself  and  I  could  plainly  see  hin 

16 


Laughter  Limited  17 

occupying  it  and  a  little  bit  of  the  seats  on  either 
hand,  as  well. 

Then  I  was  terribly  excited,  too.  Ridiculous,  of 
course,  because  here  I  had  been  acting  in  every  show 
the  Stonybrook  Dramatic  Club  had  given  for  the  past 
three  winters,  or  since  I  was  just  barely  fifteen,  and 
ought  to  have  become  accustomed  to  the  big  audiences 
that  always  turned  out  on  these  occasions.  But 
although  I  was  San  Whoosis  the  year  we  gave  The 
Mikado  and  that's  the  leading  woman's  part,  and  had 
led  the  Floradora  Sextet  in  the  performance  we  gave 
for  the  benefit  of  the  new  church  organ,  and  other 
parts  besides,  not  to  mention  receiving  the  Mrs.  Carrie 
Benton  Prize  for  elocution  in  grammar  school,  I  had 
never  got  over  being  nervous  before  a  performance, 
and  going  all  hot  and  cold  and  my  throat  pulsing  and 
other  bona  fide  symptoms  of  the  genuine  artistic  tem- 
perament. And  this  night  of  the  Stonybrook  Follies 
of  1920,  which  was  a  sort  of  super  amateur  vaudeville, 
I  was  about  to  do  a  daring  novelty  specialty  which  my 
chum  Ella  Benton  and  Mr.  Schoonmacker,  our  choir- 
master, and  I  had  gotten  up  ourselves,  so  I  felt  more 
temperamental  than  usual. 

It  was  really  a  wonderful  program  we  had,  taking 
off  all  the  follies  of  the  town  of  Stonybrook,  you  see. 
There  was  a  opening  violin  solo  by  little  Afcnie  Ben- 
ton,  Ella's  younger  sister,  and  the  committee  had  put 
that  on  the  program  first  because  of  being  afraid  the 
folks  wouldn't  wait  for  it  otherwise  as  Annie  was  only 
eleven  and  her  mother  had  kindly  but  firmly  volunteered 
Annie's  services. 


18  Laughter  Limited 

Then  after  Annie  had  played  Moonlight  on  the 
Sonata,  by  Beethoven,  there  was  a  scream  of  a  skit 
on  our  Ladies'  Literary  Club  meeting,  with  fat  old 
Mr.  Edwards,  the  bicycle-repair-shop  man,  as  Mrs. 
Edwards,  his  own  wife,  leading  the  meeting.  Then 
after  that  a  couple  of  the  boys  sang  a  song  that  had 
a  line  on  pretty  nearly  everybody  in  the  hall  in  it,  to 
the  tune  of  You'd  be  Surprised,  and  Mr.  Schoon- 
macker,  in  evening  clothes,  played  A  Medley  Jazz  on 
the  piano,  and  then  came  our  act. 

It  was  a  parody  on  Trixie  Trueman  in  her  great 
special  film  production  Rich  Men's  Daughters,  and  I 
took  the  part  of  Trixie.  It  was  the  scene  where  Trixie 
is  rocking  the  cradle  with  her  poor  little  unwanted  baby 
in  it,  and  her  father — that  was  Mr.  Schoonmacker — 
goes  off  to  work,  and  the  heavy — that  was  Ella,  in 
boy's  clothes,  mustache  and  all — comes  in  and  tries 
to  kill  them  both.  If  I  do  say  it  we  had  gone  to  a 
lot  of  trouble  with  the  set,  having  hung  black  mosquito 
netting  between  us  and  the  audience,  and  hiring  a 
special  machine  all  the  way  from  New  Haven,  which 
Joe  Shilke,  the  colored  janitor  of  the  school,  operated 
for  us  from  the  balcony  and  which  threw  a  flickery 
light  on  us  while  we  acted,  giving  just  exactly  the 
effect  of  a  moving  picture — almost. 

Well,  I  went  through  my  part  without  accident, 
and  Mr.  Schoonmacker  was  fine,  and  if  Ella  hadn't 
lost  her  mustache  in  the  excitement  towards  the  end, 
the  act  would  of  gone  off  perfectly.  By  good  luck  the 
folks  thought  she  lost  it  on  purpose,  and  anyways  the 
act  went  over  big1,  so  that  when  I  left  the  stage  my 


Laughter  Limited  19 

cheeks  felt  like  they  was  burning  up,  and  I  hardly 
knew  I  was  walking  as  I  come  around  through  the 
wings  where  the  blackboards  and  desks  and  things 
which  usually  occupied  the  stage  had  been  stored  for 
the  evening,  meaning  to  go  down  front  in  my  costume 
and  make-up  and  see  the  rest  of  the  show  myself; 
also  to  give  the  audience  another  chance  to  look  at  me 
the  way  I  was.  It's  awful  hard  to  lay  off  acting,  once 
you  got  a  costume  on. 

Well,  as  I  come  down  the  steps  from  the  stage  door 
that  opened  out  into  the  hall,  naturally  one  or  two 
grabbed  me  and  told  me  how  good  I  was,  and  first 
among  them  of  course  was  Bert. 

"Bonnie,  you  were  immense!"  he  says  in  a  loud 
whisper,  his  glasses  falling  off  his  long  nose  the  way 
they  always  did  every  few  minutes  when  he  got  ex- 
cited, but  always  fortunately  being  caught  by  the  black 
string  he  had  them  on.  "Immense — simply  great! 
We  all  thought  you  were  wonderful!" 

"Did  you,  honestly,  Bert?"  I  whispered  back.  And 
then  I  noticed  Bert  was  not  alone.  Behind  him  in  the 
dimness  was  another  man — some  boy,  I  could  lamp 
that,  even  in  the  dark!  And  then  in  another  second 
Bert  was  making  us  acquainted. 

"Meet  Miss  Bonnie  McFadden,  Mr.  Greg  Strick- 
land," Bert  whispered.  "Stricky  thought  your  acting 
was  immense,"  he  added  in  a  whisper  as  the  elegant 
Mr.  Strickland  and  I  shook. 

"Delighted !"  he  murmured.  "Aren't  you  coming  to 
sit  with  us?" 

I  could  only  nod  dumbly,  because  the  curtain  was 


20  Laughter  Limited 

getting  ready  to  struggle  up  again  by  now,  and  we 
had  to  hustle  into  our  seats.  But  all  through  the  next 
number,  which  was  a  kind  of  Americanized  Greek 
dance,  rendered  by  Miss  Lassell,  the  Delsarte  teacher, 
I  could  hardly  look  at  the  fctage  for  looking  at  Mr. 
Strickland,  and  yet  trying  not  to  let  him  know  it. 

This  bird  was  far  different  from  any  which  had 
as  yet  flown  into  our  town;  I  got  that  right  away. 
And  I  was  in  a  position  to  know,  because  of  meeting 
probably  more  visiting  men  than  any  other  girl.  You 
see  I  did  practically  all  the  buying  for  pop's  store 
and  saw  every  traveling  man  that  come  through.  But 
none  of  these  were  the  least  bit  like  Mr.  Strickland. 

I  kept  sizing  him  up  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye, 
and  he  certainly  had  class.  Washed?  Within  a  inch 
of  his  life!  He  was  the  most  thoroughly  washed- 
looking  person  I  had  ever  set  eyes  on.  He  even 
smelled  faintly  of  some  clean  scent  that  wasn't  soap 
and  certainly  wasn't  cologne.  The  handkerchief  peep- 
ing out  of  his  breast  pocket  was  pure  linen  with  a 
hand-embroidered  cut-work  monogram,  and  every- 
thing else  about  him  was  to  match.  I  don't  mean  in 
the  sense  of  socks  and  tie  and  colored  border.  Far 
from  it.  I  mean  he  had  class;  snap  and  an  awful  lot 
of  knowledge  showed  in  every  line.  He  sure  give 
me  a  thrill,  and  made  me  wild  with  excitement  about 
who  and  what  he  was  and  where  he  come  from.  And 
when  in  the  middle  of  Miss  Lassell's  Greek  dance  he 
leaned  across  me  and  whispered  to  Bert,  I  nearly 
passed  out  on  the  minute,  for  here  is  what  he  said. 

"I  say.  Bert !"  he  whispered,  not  loud,  but  only  so's 


Laughter  Limited  21 

the  people  in  our  immediate  vicinity  could  hear  him — 
"I  say,  Bert,  the  last  time  I  had  dinner  with  Doug 
and  Mary,  Charlie  did  a  parody  of  a  dance  like  that, 
and  by  Jove,  it  was  almost  as  funny  as  this  is !" 

"Is  that  so?"  says  Bert.  "It  must  of  been  immense ! 
Mr.  Strickland  is  in  the  pictures,"  he  added  to  me. 

Well,  he  didn't  need  to.  I  had  got  it  the  first  time. 
My  heart  give  a  jump  so  big  it's  a  wonder  I  didn't 
lose  it.  So  that  was  the  answer,  was  it  ?  I  might  of 
known!  Perhaps  he  was  even  a  well-known  lead? 
I  took  a  good  look  at  his  handsome  profile,  and  decided! 
not.  If  he  had  been  anybody's  juvenile  I  would  of 
known  it,  for  very  few  had  got  by  me,  even  then,  and 
I  don't  know  how  our  local  picture  theater  would  of 
met  expenses  only  for  Ella  and  me. 

"So  you  are  in  the  pictures,  Mr.  Strickland?"  I 
whispered  at  him. 

"Ah — yes!"  he  whispered  back.  "Casting  director 
with  Silvermount." 

That  was  pretty  nearly  too  much  for  me.  If  he  had 
of  said  he  was  the  President  it  wouldn't  of  been  half 
the  jolt.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cummings,  in  front,  heard 
and  turned  to  look.  Also  everybody  else  in  hearing 
distance,  one  at  a  time,  the  way  they  do  when  they 
overhear  things.  Then  Miss  Lassell's  act  was  over 
to  polite  clapping  and  the  lights  come  on.  Right  away 
Mr.  Strickland  turned  toward  me,  leaning  on  the  back 
of  his  chair  in  a  pose  of  elegant  restlessness,  his  big 
brown  eyes  sort  of  eating  me  up. 

"I  say,  Bertie,  old  boy,"  said  he,  still  looking  at 
me,  however,  "can't  we  cut  out  of  this  and  go  some- 


22  Laughter  Limited 

where?  I'm  sure  Miss  McFadden  has  seen  this  ama- 
teur stuff  often  enough  already,  and  I'm  dying  to 
talk  to  the  only  real  actress  in  the  show !" 

Imagine ! 

"Why,  I  guess  we  could  go  over  to  the  ice-cream 
parlor/'  says  Bert. 

"How  about  it?"  says  Strickland  quickly  to  me,  al- 
ready reaching  for  his  hat.  "Let's  go!" 

"All  right !"  I  says.     "But  my  make-up " 

"Oh,  never  mind  it,"  says  Strickland.  "It  is  charm- 
ingly becoming." 

And  then  somehow  we  were  up  and  leaving  the  hall. 
A  thing  which  simply  wasn't  done  at  a  Stonybrook 
Dramatic  Club's  annual  performance.  People  turned 
and  stared.  But  all  of  a  sudden  I  felt  miles  above 
them;  I  belonged  to  the  professional  world.  A  tal- 
ented young  actress  using  her  privilege  of  behaving 
different  from  the  common  herd  and  just  naturally 
beating  it  off  in  company  with  a  casting  director  and 
a  art  photographer.  We  should  worry  about  a  bunch 
of  hicks  gathered  to  watch  a  bum  amateur  show,  or 
what  they  thought  of  us! 

In  fact  the  only  thing  worried  me  was  that  pop 
might  spot  us  and  wish  himself  on  the  party.  But 
luckily  he  didn't,  and  I  got  my  coat  out  of  the  lobby 
as  quick  as  I  could,  and  then  the  three  of  us  set  off 
along  the  wet,  wintry  street  in  the  dark,  with  the  damp 
leaves  sticking  to  the  tar  pavements  and  to  our  shoes, 
down  towards  Joe's  place,  where  the  red-and-white 
electric  ice-cream  sign  made  a  bright  spot  in  the  silent 
center  of  town. 


Laughter  Limited  23 

"Are  you  staying  here  long,  Mr.  Strickland?"  I 
asked  as  soon  as  I  got  courage  enough  to  control  my 
throat. 

"Just  for  to-night,"  he  said.  "I  have  my  reserva- 
tions West  for  to-morrow.  I've  wired  the  Coast  to 
expect  me  by  Monday  at  the  latest." 

"California?"  says  I. 

"Yes,"  says  Mr.  Strickland,  swishing  at  the  dead 
leaves.  "Hollywood.  You'd  better  come  along,"  he 
added,  laughing. 

"Sure  thing!"  I  says.  "Will  you  get  me  a 
job?" 

"I'd  like  the  chance,  no  kidding,"  says  he.  "You 
have  a  face  that  would  screen  wonderfully,  Miss 
McFadden." 

"That's  what  I  always  tell  her!"  says  old  Bert 
eagerly.  "I'd  just  like  to  show  you  the  last  set  of 
cabinet  photos  I've  made  of  her." 

"I'd  like  to  see  them,"  says  Strickland.  "Of  course 
you  know  you  are  exactly  Trixie  Trueman's  type," 
he  went  on.  "Only  of  course  she  is  dark.  By  the  way, 
I  see  in  the  papers  that  she  hasn't  yet  signed  her  new 
contract  with  Silverman,  just  as  I  advised  her.  He 
only  offered  her  twenty-five  hundred  a  week,  which 
is  of  course  absurd  for  a  girl  in  her  position.  I  told 
her  she'd  be  a  fool  to  take  it  unless  he  gave  her  a 
piece  of  the  picture  as  well." 

"Of  course!"  I  says,  trying  to  appear  as  casual  as 
he.  "How  ridiculous!" 

"Why,  I  think  it's  immense!"  put  in  Bert,  his  eye- 
glasses falling  off.  "Simply  immense!  What  they 


24  Laughter  Limited 

tell  about  the  big  money  in  pictures  is  really  so,  then? 
I  always  thought  it  was  just  for  advertising!" 

"Of  course  it's  true,"  says  the  visitor.  "Fairbanks 
makes  at  least  a  million  a  year,  and  heaven  only  knows 
what  the  producers  rake  in !  Of  course  a  little  chap  like 
myself  isn't  worth  much — I  only  draw  down  five  hun- 
dred a  week  myself,  but  then,  what  do  you  expect  for 
doing  all  the  real  work?" 

He  seemed  to  think  so  little  of  the  money  that  I 
didn't  dare  pass  any  remark  about  that.  But  an  idea 
was  already  pounding  my  brain. 

"Bert,"  I  says,  "if  Mr.  Strickland  would  really  like 
to  see  how  I  photograph  couldn't  you  show  him  some 
pictures?" 

"Why  not  run  up  to  the  studio  instead  of  the  ice- 
cream place?"  said  Mr.  Strickland.  "We  can  smoke 
up  there." 

"Well,  if  Bonnie  says  so,"  says  Bert  doubtfully. 
"We  are  right  at  it  now." 

"Of  course,  why  not?"  I  says,  trying  to  be  nat- 
urally Bohemian,  but  my  heart  pounding.  To  begin 
with,  it  was  the  first  time  anybody  in  Stonybrook  had 
called  Bert's  shop  a  studio.  Secondly,  it  was  also 
the  first  time  I  had  ever  gone  to  a  studio  at  night.  But 
I  did  it.  That  evening  I  was  crazy,  and  happy.  All 
made  up  like  an  actress,  in  a  studio,  with  two  profes- 
sional men ;  with  cigarettes,  even !  When  we  were  in- 
side, and  Bert  was  getting  out  my  pictures,  I  even  took 
a  cigarette  myself,  from  Mr.  Strickland's  gold-filled 
case. 

"You  know  you  really  ought  to  go  in  the  pictures, 


Laughter  Limited  25 

Miss  McFadden!"  he  says,  lighting  it  for  me.  "No 
kidding;  you  are  wasting  your  time  in  this  dead  little 
burg." 

"Am  I  really  like  Trixie  Trueman  ?"  I  says.  "She's 
my  favorite.  I  don't  care  so  much  for  some  of  the 
others.  I  go  to  pictures  a  lot,  and  I'm  awfully  critical." 

"No  wonder!"  says  he.  "Considering  what  a  lot 
most  actors  get  away  with!  But  you'd  be  a  hit,  I 
know !  I'll  say  you  are  the  best-looking  girl  I've  seen 
in  years.  You  won't  mind  me  saying  that?" 

"And  you  think  I'd  screen?"  says  I. 

"My  dear  girl,  it's  my  business  to  know !"  he  comes 
back  at  me.  "What  do  you  think  a  casting  director 
is?" 

Well,  up  to  then  I  hadn't  been  exactly  sure,  but  now 
I  realized  that  my  hunch  had  been  right.  He  was  the 
bird  that  picked  the  chickens  for  parts!  I  wasn't  any 
more  excited  than  if  I  had  found  a  diamond  necklace. 
But  I  didn't  show  it — much. 

"You  know  you  really  are  a  most  unusual  type,"  he 
went  on.  "Quite  ideal,  in  fact.  Those  yellow  curls, 
now — I'll  bet  they  are  your  own!" 

"Of  course!"  I  says. 

"Trixie's  aren't,"  said  he. 

"What?"  says  I. 

"Great  heavens,  I've  seen  her  pin  them  on!"  he 
laughed. 

I  just  absolutely  couldn't  speak  for  a  moment.  They 
paid  her  twenty-five  hundred  a  week  and  her  hair  was 
false,  and  mine  was  real!  Why,  if  that  was  so  my 
hair  ought  to  be  worth  heavens  knew  what! 


26  Laughter  Limited 

"Look  at  these!"  says  Bert  proudly  bringing  out 
my  pictures,  every  one  of  them  mounted  on  his  special 
embossed  extra-strong  folders,  sepia  finished. 

There  I  was  at  two  years,  at  six,  at  ten.  Then  in 
my  graduation  dress.  And  these  I  sort  of  hated  Mr. 
Strickland  to  see,  but  Bert  loved  them  all.  The  one 
with  the  gauze  around  my  bare  shoulders  and  the  rose 
behind  my  ear  had  more  class,  and  my  heart  thumped 
hard  when  Mi .  Strickland  held  it  up  to  the  arch  light. 

"Wonderful  future!"  he  murmured.  "All  you've 
got  to  do  is  to  try!  You  ought  to  come  out  to  the 
Coast.  It's  the  only  sensible  thing  to  do." 


CHAPTER  II 

course  if  I  were  to  come  out  to  Los 
Angeles,"  I  says  languidly,  "it  would  have  to 
be  made  worth  my  while.  I  really  can't  afford 
experiments." 

"Hollywood  is  where  you'd  go,"  says  he.  "That's 
the  real  picture  center.  And  of  course  you  couldn't 
expect  to  make  a  million  right  off  the  post.  A  bit 
would  be  as  much  as  you'd  be  likely  to  pry  off  for  a 
while,  but  even  seventy-five  or  a  hundred  a  week  is 
enough  to  exist  on  until  you  got  on  your  feet.  As  I 
was  saying  to  Bill  Hart  the  other  night  over  at  his 
place.  'Bill,'  I  said,  'the  trouble  with  pictures  is  that 
there  are  not  enough  people  in  them  willing  to  start 
at  the  bottom;  they  all  want  to  jump  in  at  the  top.' ' 

"I'd  start  at  the  beginning,"  I  said  breathlessly, 
"and  I'd  manage  on  seventy-five  a  week!  Why,  Mr. 
Strickland,  I  never  received  seventy-five  dollars  all  at 
once  in  my  life!  Do  you  think  I  could  make  that 
much,  no  kidding?" 

He  laughed  in  that  easy,  refined  way  of  his,  showing 
his  white  teeth,  awfully  sharp  under  the  neat  little  dark 
mustache. 

"Say,  listen,  Bonnie,"  he  says.  "You'd  knock  'em 
cold  out  there.  Why,  you'd  draw  a  job  at  that  price 
twenty-four  hours  after  you  landed." 

27 


28  Laughter  Limited 

"Your  words  are  like  music,  Stricky,"  I  says  right 
back  at  him,  first  name  and  all,  just  to  show  I  was  no 
amateur.  "But  I  don't  see  how  I  could  get  away." 

"Say,  listen !"  he  said.  "Why  not  come  out  ?  Think 
of  Hollywood  as  compared  to  this  dump!  No  cold, 
no  rain  to  speak  of — lots  of  sunshine  and  flowers  all 
the  year.  And  the  beaches — wait  until  you  see  the 
beaches !  You  couldn't  give  me  the  East !  Not  after 
living  ten  years  on  the  Coast!  Why,  there's  nothing 
to  it!" 

He  meant  no  argument  against  it.  I  give  a  sigh 
and  stared  about  at  Bert's  handsome,  real  varnished, 
all-solid-white-pine  studio  with  the  framed  group  of 
the  Sunshine  Society  Convention  on  the  south  wall. 
Gee,  but  it  seemed  unreal  to  me  at  that  moment !  The 
only  reality  was  the  picture  of  California  that  Stricky 
had  just  parked  in  my  mind.  It  was  as  delicious  as 
perfume.  But  I  didn't  lose  my  head.  I'd  met  too 
many  traveling  men  single-handed,  for  that. 

"California  would  be  nice,"  I  says,  "if  you  are  sure 
I  could  get  a  job  there." 

"Why,  there's  nothing  to  it !"  he  says  again.  "With 

your  face,  your  hair  your  figure,  and  your  height 

About  four  feet  eight,  aren't  you?"  I  nodded. 

"I  thought  so!"  he  exclaimed.  "The  ideal  Holly- 
wood height!  Play  opposite  any  man  in  the  pictures 
without  dwarfing  him.  That's  important.  I  was  talk- 
ing to  Charlie  Chaplin  not  long  ago  about  that  very 
thing.  So  many  queens  are  too  tall  to  play  across 
from  him,  you  see!" 

Well,  I  wasn't  blind  of  course.    But  my  height  was 


Laughter  Limited  29 

a  talent  of  mine  I  hadn't  considered  before.  However, 
I  begun  to  get  an  idea  that  maybe  I  was  really  as  good 
as  I  had  all  along  been  hoping  I  was.  I  decided  to 
present  this  bird's  own  check  and  see  would  he  honor 
it;  and  so  in  a  voice  I  could  hardly  control  I  put  it 
up  to  Stricky — put  it  up  straight. 

"Will  you  give  me  a  job,  Stricky?"  I  says. 

"Sure  I  will — any  time  you  come  out,"  he  'says 
promptly.  Too  promptly.  Then  he  pulls  out  a  card 
from  a  leather  case  with  gold  corners  to  it.  "You  can 
always  reach  me  there,"  says  he. 

I  took  it  and  read  it  before  tucking  it  away  in  the 
pocket  of  my  seal-plush  coat:  "G.  Robert  Strickland, 
Silvermount  Productions,  Hollywood." 

There  was  a  little  silence  for  a  moment  while  I  did 
this.  And  I  stretched  it  out  on  purpose,  because  of 
revolving  something  further  over  in  my  mind.  I 
ached  to  say  it,  but  hardly  dared.  Suppose  I  pulled 
my  demand  and  then  found  that  I  had  also  pulled 
a  boner?  Suppose  my  lack  of  complete  trust  in  him 
got  him  off  me  for  life,  just  as  we  was  getting  real 
friendly?  If  I  lost  my  chance  by  being  too  business- 
like I  might  never  get  another  like  it  again.  Then, 
on  the  other  hand,  I'd  been  running  things  in  pop's  store 
too  long  not  to  of  learned  that  business  is  business 
and  friendship  ought  always  to  be  to  one  side  of  it. 
I  remembered  this,  and  also  that  when  I  ordered  a  bill 
of  goods  for  the  store  I  never  hesitated  to  sign  my 
name  to  the  order  and  so  why  should  Mr.  G.  Robert 
Strickland  ? 

Of  course  there  was  no  comparison  between  order- 


30  Laughter  Limited 

ing  me  and  ordering  a  dozen  cases  of  lemon  soda. 
But  the  principle  was  the  same  in  both  instances.  Real- 
izing this  great  truth,  that  clean-cut  business  affairs 
makes  friendships  and  never  broke  one  yet,  I  decided 
to  take  a  chance.  Looking  at  him  with  my  own  pe- 
culiar trusting,  baby  stare  I  shot. 

"And  will  you  give  me  a  contract,  Stricky  ?" 

"Why — er — well,  of  course!"  says  he,  more  sur- 
prised than  I  liked. 

"Now?"  I  says. 

He  laughed  his  gay  laugh  at  that. 

"Listen  to  the  kid !"  he  cried.  "Say  do  you  think  I 
go  around  evenings  with  the  legal  department  in  my 
vest  pocket?" 

"But  you  do  make  contracts  of  course?"  Bert  put  in 
over  the  top  of  his  glasses. 

"Why — er — certainly  we  do!"  says  Strick.  "But 
our  legal  department  has  to  draw  them  up.  I  haven't 
a  form  with  me,  worse  luck,  or  we  might  get  it  done 
right  here  in  town." 

"Then  will  you  mail  me  one  as  soon  as  you  get  to 
the  Coast?"  I  kept  on  at  him.  "I'd  like  to  have  some- 
thing definite  before  I  start  West." 

"All  right,  I'll  do  that  little  thing!"  says  Strick 
lightly.  "You  said  it !  And  I'll  get  you  the  best  money 
a  beginner  ever  had,  Bonnie,  my  dear!" 

How  easy  it  was  to  get  into  the  pictures.  What  a 
snap!  Just  like  I  had  read  about  a  hundred  times. 
All  a  person  needed  was  a  good  screen  face  and  half 
an  opening.  And  I  had  both.  All  of  a  sudden  I  felt 
it  was  time  to  go  home,  to  beat  it  while  I  had  things 


Laughter  Limited  31 

where  I  wanted  them.  And  outside  of  that,  the  strain 
had  been  something  fierce  for  a  few  moments.  Right 
now  I  wanted  the  air,  I  wanted  to  be  alone  so's  to 
be  able  to  pinch  myself  and  be  sure  I  was  awake,  and 
give  myself  a  good  look  in  the  mirror.  Stonybrook, 
Connecticut,  wasn't  real  any  more.  Only  Bonnie  Mc- 
Fadden  was  real.  A  hundred  dollars  a  week !  Bonnie 
McFadden's  salary !  A  thousand  a  week  before  long. 
And  some  day  I  would  be  turning  down  twenty-five 
hundred  per  unless  they  slipped  me  a  quarter  interest 
in  the  picture  as  well.  And  all  for  dressing  beauti- 
fully and  walking  around  in  front  of  a  camera  for  a 
few  minutes  a  day — on  days  when  I  felt  willing  to. 
I  picked  up  my  horrid  old  seal-plush  coat  and  flung  it 
on  me  with  an  ermine  gesture,  and  made  my  voice  as 
bally  English  as  Stricky's  had  been  before  he  got  to 
talking  naturally. 

"It's  so  awfully  late  for  Stonybrook,"  I  says,  "that 
I'd  really  better  slip  along  home !" 

"All  right !"  says  Stricky,  jumping  up  and  grabbing 
his  lid.  "I'll  see  Bonnie  home,  Bert,  while  you  lock 
up.  I'll  be  right  back." 

"I  like  your  crust!"  says  Bert.  "But  I  can  take  a 
hint  when  it's  registered  with  an  ax." 

"Good  night,  Bert!"  I  says  over  my  shoulder  as  I 
tucked  my  arm  into  Stricky's.  "Remember  you're  a 
friend  of  mine!" 

And  then  the  two  of  us  slipped  out  into  the  cold, 
wet  street  that  didn't  seem  a  bit  either  cold  or  nasty 
any  more,  but  like  the  road  to  heaven  or  something. 
And  as  we  walked  along  Stricky  pulled  a  line  of  kid- 


32  Laughter  Limited 

ding  that  would  of  done  any  girl's  heart  good  if  only 
they  had  been  able  to  listen  undividedly.  But  I 
couldn't,  because  of  thinking  what  would  I  do  when 
Stricky  saw  where  I  lived  ?  What  would  I  say  ?  How 
would  I  get  away  with  it?  I  was  worried  clean 
through. 

"Say,  listen,  suppose  I  hadn't  run  up  here  to  stay 
overnight  with  Bert!"  Stricky  was  saying.  "Just  by 
accident,  as  one  might  say.  And  say,  listen,  do  you 
know  he  had  to  drag  me  to  that  show  by  main  force  ? 
What  an  escape,  eh,  baby?  Say,  I  wouldn't  have 
missed  you  for  a  million!  And  to  think  I  imagined 
to-night  was  going  to  be  punishment!  You  won't 
mind  my  speaking  of  it,  Bonnie,  but  it's  not  only  your 
looks,  it's  your  class,  that's  got  to  me.  Nothing  small 
time  about  you!  If  there  is  one  thing  makes  me  glad, 
it's  class,  and  you  sure  have  got  it!" 

Well,  I  didn't  feel  any  more  like  cheering  when  he 
says  that  than  before.  Because  we  had  reached  my 
home,  and  he  would  have  to  know  the  awful  truth. 
The  house  was  looming  up  before  us  now,  right  in 
the  center  of  town,  enormous  and  sort  of  spooky  and 
vague.  The  closed  shutters,  especially  the  high-up 
ones  in  the  mansard  roof,  give  it  a  forbidding  appear- 
ance, even  at  night,  and  the  pair  of  iron  stags  on  the 
wide  lawn  seemed  sort  of  to  move  in  the  swaying  light 
of  the  street  lamp.  The  front  was  all  dark  of  course, 
but  down  in  the  basement  side  entrance  pop  had  left  a 
lamp  burning  for  me. 

"Well,  this  is  as  far  as  I  go!"  I  says,  laughing 
nervously. 


Laughter  Limited  33 

"What!"  exclaimed  Stricky.  "Is  this  where  you 
live?  The  biggest  place  in  town,  isn't  it?" 

"I  guess  so,"  I  replied. 

He  didn't  say  anything  at  once,  but  somehow  his 
manner  changed.  I  could  feel  it  even  in  the  dark  as 
he  took  my  elbow  politely  and  started  piloting  me  up 
the  tar  path  toward  the  front  door. 

"I'm  really  awfully  glad  to  have  met  you,  Miss 
Bonnie,"  he  says,  more  in  the  manner  he  had  used 
back  in  the  hall.  "I  hope  you  won't  think  I've  had 
an  awful  crust,  the  way  I've  talked.  I  had  no  idea — 
well — you  are  not  going  to  forget  me?" 

"It's  the  other  door — where  the  light  is,"  I  says. 
"And  how  can  I  forget  you  when  I'm  going  to  get  a 
contract  from  you?" 

"Of  course!"  says  he.  Then  he  took  off  his  hat, 
very  respectful  and  charming.  "Good  night,"  he 
says.  "It's  been  delightful.  You  will  hear  from 
me  soon." 

"Good  night,  don't  forget!"  I  says,  and  went  in, 
closing  the  basement  door  behind  me.  I  stood  there 
against  the  wall  a  minute,  listening  to  the  sound  of  his 
footsteps  going  away  down  the  quiet  street  and  won- 
dering what  it  was  had  changed  him  in  those  last 
few  moments?  Why  the  sudden  respect?  It  wasn't 
cold  feet,  that  was  a  cinch.  It  was  awe.  He  was  im- 
pressed. Good  land!  Impressed  with  the  house! 
That  was  it.  The  enormous  old  show  place  of  Stony- 
brook  Center.  I  leaned  back  against  the  wall  and 
laughed  into  my  handkerchief  so's  pop  wouldn't  hear 
me.  Way  down  the  street  somebody — Stricky,  most 


34  Laughter  Limited 

like — had  begun  to  whistle  sharp  and  clear,  You'd  be 
Surprised. 

"I'll  say  he  would,"  I  whispered,  "if  he  knew  pop 
and  me  was  the  caretakers  here !" 


CHAPTER  III 

\  IN'T  it  funny  how  a  person  you  have  known  all 
•**  your  life  can  tell  you  a  thing  again  and  again 
and  you  don't  believe  them,  and  then  all  of  a  sudden 
some  perfect  stranger  blows  in  and  pulls  the  same  line 
and  you  take  their  word  for  it  without  even  swallow- 
ing twice  ? 

That's  the  way  I  was  with  Bert  and  Stricky.  Dear 
old  Bert!  He  was  kind  of  lonesome  in  our  town,  I 
guess,  on  account  of  having  too  much  artistic  tem- 
perament to  get  along  with  the  other  inhabitants,  yet 
not  enough  to  get  out  and  show  them.  So  he  picked 
on  me  as  a  method  of  self-expression,  and  had  me  all 
dated  to  do  the  things  he'd  always  wanted  to.  I  liked 
his  believing  in  me.  He  was  the  only  one  in  town  that 
did,  but  I  didn't  believe  he  knew.  And  now  the  very 
snappiest,  worldliest  man  that  had  ever  shown  around 
our  parts  came  along  and  backed  him  up ! 

Well,  when  Stricky's  fashionably  shod  footsteps  had 
died  away  I  took  the  lamp  and  started  for  my  room, 
walking  easy  so's  not  to  wake  up  pop.  Of  course  we 
had  just  the  basement  of  the  house,  but  those  four 
rooms  was  the  only  home  I  could  remember,  pop 
having  got  the  job  of  looking  after  the  place  when 
mom  died.  And  a  lucky  thing  for  us  that  Milton 
Sherrill  decided  to  keep  the  house  from  sentiment, 
even  though  the  family  was  all  dead  but  him,  and  he 

35 


36  Laughter  Limited 

lived  out  in  California  himself,  only  coming  East  once 
in  a  great  while. 

Pop  had  accepted  this  caretaking  job  because  it  was 
easier  than  earning  rent  money.  Mr.  Sherrill  didn't 
pay  pop  for  looking  after  things,  but  rent  free  is  rent 
free,  and  pop,  I  suppose,  did  the  work  until  I  was  big 
enough  to,  though  I  can  hardly  remember  such  a  time. 
I  couldn't  have  been  more  than  seven  years  old  the 
first  day  I  cleaned  the  brass  on  the  front  door  of  my 
own  accord,  inspired  by  Milton  Sherrill's  photograph, 
which  I  had  swiped  out  of  the  parlor  upstairs  and  put 
on  my  bureau.  The  owner  had  an  awful  nice  face, 
and  had  been  about  twenty  years  old  when  Bert  made 
this  cabinet  photo  of  him.  I  used  to  think  Milton 
smiled  appreciatively  whenever  I  took  especial  care  of 
his  dead  mother's  things.  Anyways  I  kidded  myself 
along  like  that,  making  a  regular  hero  out  of  him  and 
doing  more  than  I  really  needed  to. 

Well,  my  bedroom  was  what  had  been  the  servants' 
dining  room  in  the  old  days,  and  this  night  I  crept 
across  the  kitchen  to  it  without  disturbing  anybody 
but  a  few  mice  in  the  wall,  and  set  the  lamp  down  on 
the  dresser  in  front  of  Milton  Sherrill's  faded  old 
photo,  which  I  still  kept  there.  But  I  hardly  noticed 
it.  All  it  meant  to  me  just  then  was  that  it  stood 
guard  to  my  amateur  but  absolutely  secret  safe-deposit 
vault.  Large  as  it  was  I  wanted  to  reassure  myself 
with  a  flash  at  what  I  had  parked  away  in  the  little 
drawer  against  which  Milton  was  leaning  so  smilingly. 
So  I  flecked  him  aside  and,  digging  under  my  pair  of 
white  gloves  and  my  two  veils,  my  sample  of  French 


Laughter  Limited  37 

perfume  and  my  real  lace  handkerchief,  took  out  my 
savings-bank  book,  opened  it,  made  sure  the  last  total 
really  said  four  hundred  berries,  give  the  blessed 
numerals  a  hearty  good-night  kiss,  and  stuck  the  stuff 
all  back  where  it  belonged. 

I  didn't  pull  off  a  great  deal  of  sleep,  however,  but 
lay  a  long  time  staring  at  the  bars  of  light  the  street 
lamp  threw  on  the  ceiling,  acting  out  all  kinds  of  scenes 
in  my  mind,  where  I  turned  down  leading  producers, 
refused  to  marry  millionaires,  and  had  my  maid  clean- 
ing my  jewels,  and  so  forth.  Incidentally,  I  sure  hated 
myself  for  having  saved  every  cent  that  had  come  my 
way  for  the  last  four  years !  Because,  as  far  as  I  had 
heard,  they  weren't  giving  away  tickets  to  Los  An- 
geles that  season.  Sweet  daddy,  some  dreams,  I  had ! 
And  then  the  first  thing  I  knew,  I  was  sitting  up  in 
bed,  realizing  that  the  bell  I  heard  was  not  the  Prince 
of  Wales  calling  on  the  telephone,  but  the  alarm  clock 
remarking  that  the  kitchen  stove  went  out  if  neglected 
after  six  o'clock. 

I  took  the  hint,  still  in  the  magic  haze  which  had 
sprung  up  around  me  last  night.  And  as  I  dressed  I 
looked  out  of  the  barred  window  at  the  dead  grass  and 
old  leaves  that  pop  had  for  two  months  now  been  con- 
sidering raking  up.  I  shivered  as  I  looked.  The  base- 
ment window  brought  the  lawn  about  level  with  my 
nose  and  I  could  smell  its  damp  odor  even  through  the 
glass.  Down  at  the  depot  the  6.05  was  whistling. 
Stricky  would  be  going  out  on  that.  He'd  have  to, 
if  he  was  leaving  first  thing,  like  he'd  said,  for  we 
only  had  one  morning  train  out  that  time  of  year. 


38  Laughter  Limited 

Stricky  on  his  way  to  California — where  they  had  sun 
and  flowers  and — oh,  gee— -everything ! 

The  thought  didn't  make  me  sore  or  depressed, 
though.  I  remembered  the  contract  that  was  coming  to 
me,  and  deliberately  switched  my  mind  to  coal  scuttles 
and  fried  eggs. 

"Get  on  the  job,  B.  McFadden,"  I  told  myself,  stick- 
ing my  curls  under  a  winter-weight  boudoir  cap  that 
I  used,  not  to  keep  my  brains  warm  as  might  be  sup- 
posed, but  because  yellow  hair  gets  dirty  so  easy. 
"Calm  down  now,  and  do  to-day's  job  to-day,  and  to- 
morrow will  dope  itself  out!" 

With  which  words  of  wisdom  I  started  fixing  up 
the  eats,  and  pretty  soon  the  smell  of  coffee  drew 
pop's  handsome  curly  head  out  of  his  room. 

"Is  that  yourself  stirring  about,  Bonnie  dear?"  he 
says,  following  his  head  and  pulling  his  regular  daily 
line.  "Sure  I  didn't  know  it  was  this  late!  I  meant 
to  have  a  scuttle  of  coal  up  for  you  this  morning !" 

"Thanks,  pop,"  I  said.  "Come  on  and  eat  now. 
The  train  is  in  and  the  papers  will  be  over  to  the 
store  soon.  We  don't  want  them  to  be  late  getting 
around  again!" 

"Sure  and  I'm  on  me  way!"  says  pop,  languidly 
dropping  into  his  place  and  settling  down  for  a  com- 
fortably chatty  meal,  in  that  exasperating  style  of  his. 
"Give  us  some  coffee,  my  pretty!  That's  the  girl! 
Well,  Bonnie,  what  on  earth  did  you  want  to  go  and 
make  a  show  out  of  yourself  for  like  that,  last  night?" 

"Whatter  you  mean,  pop?"  I  says.  "I  got  a  right 
to  go  out  with  Bert  and  his  friend  if  I  want!" 


Laughter  Limited  39 

"Sure  that  part  was  all  right,"  he  agreed,  swooping 
down  on  a  third  egg.  "Girls  should  have  the  boys 
runnin'  after  them.  It's  only  nature !  I  mean  all  that 
tearin'  around  on  the  stage,  like  you  done!" 

"That  was  supposed  to  be  a  movie,  pop!"  I  says. 
"I  thought  it  was  pretty  good,  myself,  and  so  did 
some  other  parties!" 

"Stuff  and  nonsense !"  says  pop.  "Keep  your  mind 
on  your  cooking  and  it'll  fetch  you  a  better  husband !" 

"So  you  don't  think  I  got  any  talent  ?"  I  says. 

"No  talent  at  all!"  he  says  cheerfully.  "And  why 
would  you?  Not  but  that  you're  a  good  girl  and  a 
fine  daughter  to  me,  Bonnie !" 

"I'll  say  I  am!"  I  remarked  with  spirit.  "And  as 
for  acting,  I  guess  I  got  as  good  grounds  for  acting 
as  Pickford  or  anybody.  I've  got  the  wish  to." 

"There,  now,  don't  get  excited!"  says  pop,  reprov- 
ing me  with  his  teaspoon.  "Take  your  mind  off  such 
nonsense  when  there  is  serious  matters  to  discuss." 

"What  now?"  I  asked,  real  sharp.  "Have  you  been 
playing  pool  again?  How  much?" 

"No,  daughter  dear!"  says  pop,  flashing  that  win- 
ning smile  of  his  at  me.  Pop  sure  was  a  beauty,  what 
with  his  six  feet  of  height,  and  if  a  trifle  too  heavy 
now,  his  blond  curly  head  and  his  smile,  the  both  of 
which  I  have  inherited  from  him,  could  melt  the  heart 
of  a  stone,  or  of  a  woman  who  considered  he  abused 
her.  Which  is  even  more. 

"It's  not  pool,  Bonnie  dear,"  he  says.  "It's  the 
mortgage  on  the  shop  itself  I'm  thinking  of.  It'll  be 
due  in  another  two  weeks  and  it's  time  to  consider  the 


40  Laughter  Limited 

matter  of  where  will  we  get  the  money.  Have  you 
thought?" 

"I've  thought  of  this,  pop,"  I  says — "and  not  for 
the  first  time,  either — that  if  you  was  to  do  a  little 
work  we  wouldn't  be  broke  all  the  time!" 

Pop's  face  fell.  He  pursed  his  lips  and  shook  his 
head  sadly. 

"I  know  it,  Bonnie,  I  know  it!"  he  said.  "God 
love  ye,  I'd  like  to  make  a  lot  of  money  and  leave 
you  live  like  a  lady.  But  where  can  I  get  the  chance 
in  this  forsaken  town?  And  business  all  over  the 
country  is  terrible — it's  fierce!  Why,  only  the  other 
day  I  was  reading  a  piece " 

"And  only  the  other  year  you  were  telling  me  you 
couldn't  get  work  on  account  of  the  war!"  I  says. 
"And  next  year  it'll  be  impossible  to  find  a  job  on 
account  of  business  being  so  good!  Why  don't  you 
show  a  little  ambition?  Do  you  expect  to  catch  a 
fortune  just  by  sitting  still  and  letting  it  mistake  you 
for  bait?" 

"Well,  and  what  would  you  suggest,  since  you're 
so  smart,  eh?"  says  pop,  undisturbed.  "Sure,  I'll 
act  on  anything  you  say !" 

Well,  I  had  to  think  hard  for  a  minute  or  two  be- 
fore I  could  answer  that,  because  this  conversation 
was  one  which  we  had  not  more  than  twice  a  month, 
regular,  and  my  stock  of  suggestions  had  run  kind 
of  low.  But  I  wouldn't  let  him  stump  me,  not  while 
there  was  some  ideas  floating  around  in  the  world 
free  for  anyone  with  a  grain  of  sense  to  catch.  1  rat- 
tled the  dishes  in  the  sink,  hurrying  to  catch  up  with 


Laughter  Limited  41 

my  work,  and,  as  usual,  doing  the  job  on  hand  and 
doing  it  good  brought  results  in  more  than  one  way. 

"I  got  an  idea!"  I  says.  "Do  you  know  Jake  John- 
son, that  Swede  that's  taken  up  the  old  Benson  farm, 
had  to  send  all  the  way  to  New  Haven  for  the  tractor 
he  bought?" 

"Well,  what  of  that?"  says  pop. 

"There  isn't  an  agent  on  this  territory,"  I  says. 
"And  there's  a  chance  to  sell  tractors  here.  Why  don't 
you  jump  in  and  get  the  agency  before  the  boys  at  the 
garage  think  of  it?" 

"That's  a  smart  idea!"  says  pop  brightly.  "And 
the  work  will  just  suit  me.  I  know  as  much  about 
mechanics  as  the  next  feller,  and  I'm  a  fair  salesman, 
at  that !  All  I'd  have  to  do  is  to  talk  'em  into  buying, 
and  pocket  the  commission !" 

"That's  it !"  I  says,  with  the  faint  hope  that  always 
would  spring  up  in  me  every  time  we  had  a  confer- 
ence. "You  could  make  a  big  success  of  it,  pop.  We'll 
write  to  the  New  Haven  agency  to-night." 

"We  will  that!"  says  pop.  "And  I  ought  easy  to 
sell  one  or  two  before  old  Bush  well  comes  down  on 
us  for  his  money !" 

Then  he  shuffled  off  across  the  street  to  where  Pike's 
boy  with  his  bicycle  was  already  waiting  for  the 
Clarions,  and  for  a  while  I  stood  there  looking  after 
pop,  half  mad  and  half  tender.  The  handsome,  lazy 
hulk!  I'd  drive  him  to  work  yet! 

He  went  into  the  ramshackle  little  old  shed  of  a 
store,  Pike's  boy  following  him,  and  I  took  off  my 
cap  and  wrapper,  slipped  into  my  one-piece  model  of 


42  Laughter  Limited 

black  serge  with  the  tassels  that  I  had  copied  out  of 
one  of  the  fashion  magazines  we  carried  on  our  news 
stand,  and  then  I  done  pop's  round  of  the  house  up- 
stairs, which  I  made  every  night  and  morning  just  to 
be  sure  everything  was  O.K. 

If  I  do  say  so,  that  house  was  kept  in  Ai  condition. 
Everything  had  been  left  just  like  it  was  when  old 
Mrs.  Sherrill  died,  and  it  was  furnished  complete. 
Out  of  the  ark,  I  guess,  for  the  stuff  was  not  real  old 
antiques,  which  I  like  pretty  well,  especially  the  clean 
new  ones  that  they  make  nowadays.  The  Sherrill  fur- 
niture was  mostly  of  a  sort  of  Mumps  design,  the 
plush  being  puffed  way  out  in  the  wrong  place  like  a 
swelling,  but  intended  to  be  like  that;  and  the  wood 
was  mostly  black  walnut  carved  with  a  crochet  needle, 
by  the  looks  of  it.  Flowered  carpets  with  flowers 
bigger  even  than  a  Calif ornian  could  claim  for  his 
native  state  was  on  the  floor,  and  the  one  bathroom 
was  done  in  Early  Tintype. 

Just  the  same,  the  enormous  rooms,  with  the  heavy 
window  curtains,  the  thick  carpets  and  the  homely, 
expensive  furniture  always  give  me  a  sort  of  thrill 
when  I  walked  through.  When  I  was  a  kid  I  used  to 
think  these  was  the  most  beautiful  rooms  in  the  world, 
but  that  was  before  pop  added  Country  Houses  to  the 
magazines  on  our  stand.  And  even  yet  I  had  a  sort  of 
pleasure  in  the  rooms  because  they  always  seemed  like 
they  was  haunted  by  Milton.  I  figured  he  must  be  a 
pretty  nice  sort  of  bird  to  keep  his  mother's  house  that 
way,  and  you  could  kind  of  feel  that  he  thought  about 
the  place  often.  I  remembered  the  last  time  he  was 


Laughter  Limited  43 

home,  a  grave,  quiet  sort  of  man,  you  couldn't  tell  how 
old  he  was,  standing  there  and  telling  pop  how  much 
he  liked  the  way  the  place  was  looked  after,  and  pop 
swelling  out  his  shirt  and  accepting  all  the  praise. 

I,  a  kid  of  less  than  twelve  years  old,  but  the  real 
author  of  all  this  cleanness,  had  hid  behind  the  door, 
peeking  at  them  and  getting  no  more  credit  than  a 
picture  actor  out  of  work !  But  I  was  trembling  while 
I  listened  to  the  owner,  talking  so  grave,  in  a  deep 
voice  like  the  lowest-toned  bell  in  our  chimes.  I  wor- 
shiped Milton  Sherrill,  and  why  not?  I  didn't  know 
one  thing  about  him. 

This  day,  though,  as  I  straightened  out  the  candle- 
sticks with  the  glass  dingle-dangles  on  the  parlor  man- 
tel and  pulled  the  hand-painted  window  shades  down 
even,  Mr.  Sherrill  seemed  only  a  ghostly  dream,  and 
instead  of  him  I  thought  of  the  warm,  real  Stricky. 

I  held  a  long  talk  with  Stricky,  in  my  imagination, 
pulling  all  the  clever  gags  I  hadn't  thought  of  last 
night  while  he  was  around,  and  walking  with  my  re- 
fined debutante  droop,  which  I  had  forgotten  to  use. 
And  then  I  heard  pop  yell  from  across  the  street  to 
come  and  say  how  many  coupons  went  with  three 
packages  of  Extra  Cut  Tobacco  for  Mr.  Schoon- 
macker.  So  I  says  "Pardon  me,  Stricky,  old  thing — 
don't  forget  the  contract — ta  ta!"  and  slammed  out 
of  the  house  and  over  to  the  store  before  pop  could 
ruin  the  first  sale  of  the  morning. 

There  isn't  a  child  living  but  what  has  helped  to 
raise  their  parents;  that's  a  fact.  But  probably  few 
have  had  more  difficult  ones  than  pop.  Hardly  had  I 


44  Laughter  Limited 

got  over  to  the  store  than  pop  discovered  he  had  to  go 
down  street.  Well,  he  had  to,  I  knew  that.  He  was 
obliged  to  go  and  hold  up  the  left-hand  side  of  the 
post-office  front  door,  because  if  he  was  to  miss  a 
day  after  all  these  years  very  likely  the  building  would 
cave  in.  But  I  didn't  say  anything  except  all  right, 
and  set  to  work  unpacking  a  box  of  lollypops  that  had 
just  come,  and  arranging  them  like  a  bouquet  in  a 
vase  on  the  counter.  And  then  all  I  had  to  do  was 
the  accounts,  the  cleaning  up,  a  little  stock  taking,  and 
I  was  free  to  sit  down  between  the  airtight  stove  and 
the  magazine  stand,  where  I  could  toast  my  toes  on  the 
one  and  reach  the  other  easily,  with  all  the  time  in  the 
world  to  read,  and  no  interruptions  except  now  and 
then  a  customer. 

When  one  came  I  would  struggle  to  my  feet  and 
make  a  big  sale  like  a  bag  of  tobacco  or  three  one-cent 
stamps.  Usually  we  done  at  least  a  dollar's  worth  of 
business  before  noon,  but  not  always.  And  so  I  would 
sit  and  reach  for  the  magazines,  one  after  another, 
until  what  I  didn't  know  about  the  real  world,  the 
world  that  sets  the  standards,  wasn't  worth  bothering 
over. 

Ain't  it  remarkable  the  educational  influences  we 
got  put  up  in  magazine  form?  I  never  looked  at  the 
cheap  fiction  stuff,  hardly.  I  deliberately  let  it  lie 
while  I  pried  off  a  lot  of  culture.  I  knew  exactly 
what  was  to  be  wore  as  quick  as  any  New  York  City 
girl  did,  and  how  the  Vanderbilts  looked  on  the  Ave- 
nue, and  what  breed  of  dog  was  all  the  rage.  I  was 
familiar  with  the  appearance  of  the  special  Booster 


Laughter  Limited  45 

Body  Colby-Droit  that  had  been  built  for  the  governor 
of  Howcome,  China,  and  What  the  Well  Dressed  Man 
is  to  Avoid.  I  knew  about  paneled  drawing-rooms, 
could  recognize  a  Chinese  rug  on  sight  and  was  famil- 
iar with  the  names  of  leading  gift  shops,  tea  rooms 
and  real-estate  dealers  all  over  the  country;  and  if  that 
isn't  the  highest  degree  of  modern  American  culture  I 
don't  know  what  is. 

This  day,  however,  it  was  the  moving-picture  pa- 
pers that  got  to  me.  I  read  them  in  a  new  light,  and 
figured  how  would  I  look  among  them  myself.  I  got 
to  dreaming  over  them  so  deep  that  I  was  almost  scared 
to  death  when  pop  come  in,  banging  the  door  and 
wanting  to  know  where  was  dinner. 

That  brought  me  down  to  earth  all  right.  I  flew 
back  to  the  house,  and  over  the  stove  and  the  boiled 
dinner  which  I  had  simmering  on  the  back  of  it  my 
stock  took  a  awful  slump.  This  was  brought  about  by 
pop.  During  the  meal  he  was  just  as  cheerful  and 
charming  as  ever,  but  his  first  words,  as  I  helped  him 
to  cabbage,  kind  of  took  all  the  pep  out  of  me. 


CHAPTER  IV 

"T  BEEN  thinking  over  that  tractor  idea,  Bonnie 

•*•  darlin',"  he  says,  "and  I'm  afraid  it  is  no  good, 
after  all.  Schoonmacker  says  he  thinks  I  could  get  the 
agency  all  right,  but  how  about  demonstrating  the 
blame  thing?  I'd  have  to  be  off  in  the  backwoods 
working  one  for  the  benefit  of  some  farmer,  and 
strainin'  me  back  or  something,  and  then  in  the  end 
perhaps  make  no  sale  after  all!" 

"Well,  you'd  have  to  work  for  a  sale  of  course!" 
I  says.  "What  do  you  expect?" 

"Besides,  I  couldn't  leave  the  store  very  well,"  pop 
went  on.  "And  it  would  tie  me  up  badly,  in  case 
something  big  turned  up." 

"I  see!"  I  says,  short.  Not  that  I  had  honestly 
thought  pop  would  go  through  with  the  plan.  "I  see," 
says  I.  "But  how  about  the  mortgage  that's  coming 
due  on  the  store?" 

"Oh,  that !"  says  pop  airily,  relieved  at  having  made 
another  successful  escape.  "I  made  a  mistake  about 
that!" 

"How  ?"  says  I  breathlessly. 

"It's  due  next  week,  not  two  weeks  from  now," 
says  pop.  "I  had  the  date  wrong." 

I  laid  down  my  knife  at  that.  Believe  me,  I  couldn't 
eat  another  mouthful. 

"Pop!"  I  says.    "What  on  earth'll  you  do?" 

46 


Laughter  Limited  47 

"Oh,  old  Bushwell  will  let  it  ride  again  for  a  while, 
I  dare  say!"  says  pop  cheerfully.  "He's  a  decent  old 
feller!" 

"No,  he  won't,  pop!"  I  cried,  real  excited  now. 
"You  know  he  said  he'd  foreclose,  and  I  don't  blame 
him!  He's  had  patience  enough!  You  got  an  idea 
that  by  laying  down  on  folks  you  can  just  naturally 
make  them  carry  you !  But  you'll  do  it  once  too  often, 
lemme  tell  you!" 

"Sush,  Bonnie  dear,  don't  raise  your  voice,"  says 
pop,  with  all  the  gentleness  and  patience  in  the  world. 
"Haven't  I  often  told  you  a  loud  voice  wasn't  lady- 
like?" 

"I  don't  care!"  I  shouted  angrily.  "I'm  no  lady! 
I'm  a  slave,  that's  what  I  am,  and  I'm  fed  up  with 
it!  If  you  won't  help  me  by  going  to  work  I  won't 
help  you  by  working  for  you — so  there!" 

"Sure,  darling,  and  you  know  I'd  work  for  you  if 
I  could  find  anything  to  do,"  pop  declared  smoothly. 
"Any  one  would  think  I  had  no  affection  for  you  at 
all!  And  you  the  smart  young  girl  that  you  are! 
Why,  who  but  a  clever  girl  would  of  saved  the  money 
you  have,  Bonnie?  Eh?" 

There  was  a  little  silence  then. 

"What  money?"  I  says  sullenly. 

"Well,  I  know  they  paid  you  twenty-five  dollars  for 
the  photo  you  posed  for  Sweet-breath  Tooth  Paste," 
says  pop,  counting  on  his  fingers.  "And  then  there's 
the  subscriptions  you've  been  taking  in  for  Tropics; 
the  commissions  must  be  amounting  to  seventy-five 
dollars  by  now.  That's  a  hundred,  and " 


48  Laughter  Limited 

"Hold  on,  pop!"  I  says  fiercely,  getting  to  my  feet 
and  shoving  back  from  the  table  while  I  glared  at  him 
across  that  hateful  soppy  food.  "Hold  on — that's  my 
money — my  very  own.  Don't  you  dast  to  think  you 
can  touch  it!" 

"But,  good  heaven,  child  dear,"  says  pop.  "You 
haven't  spent  it?" 

"I  have  not,  and  I'm  not  going  to!"  I  says.  "I 
give  you  my  work  in  the  store  and  run  the  house  and 
never  get  a  cent  for  it,  and  if  I  do  extra  work  outside, 
that  money  is  mine!" 

"Come  here,  darling!"  says  pop.  "Sure;  of  course 
it's  your  own  money !  Who  would  deny  it  ?  But  you 
wouldn't  let  the  little  shop  go?  Where  would  we  get 
any  living  at  all  without  it?" 

I'll  say  pop  had  honey  in  his  voice.  Some  said  it 
was  the  blarney  stone,  but  here  was  one  time  when  it 
listened  more  like  crushed  gravel  to  me.  Ordinarily 
he  could  of  wheedled  me.  He'd  been  all  I  had  until 
last  night,  and  a  woman  has  got  to  have  some  man 
to  make  a  fool  of  herself  over,  even  if  he  is  only  a 
kind  of  half-baked  father.  This  was  plainly  my  cue 
to  save  the  old  home  shop,  rescue  my  dependent  parent, 
and  play  a  heavy  lead  in  my  own  home  town.  But 
somehow  the  first  move  was  never  made.  The  director 
had  yelled  "Lights!  Camera!  Shoot!"  but  the  star 
didn't  come  on. 

Instead  I  just  stood  there  quiet,  pop  with  his  arm 
around  my  waist,  smiling  at  me  in  that  sure  way  of 
his,  and  little  knowing  what  was  fermenting  in  my 
bean.  And  as  I  looked  at  him  it  come  over  me  abso- 


Laughter  Limited  49 

lutely  clearly  for  the  first  time  that  pop  was  full  of 
health.  He  wasn't  a  day  over  forty-three,  and  not  a 
thing  ailed  him  but  the  habit  of  refusing  to  do  any- 
thing for  himself  as  long  as  there  was  anybody  to 
double  for  him. 

And  as  I  kept  on  staring  I  also  all  of  a  sudden  saw 
the  reflection  of  a  young  woman — a  grown  woman — 
in  his  eyes.  It  was  myself  of  course.  Something  wild 
and  hot  flamed  up  in  me  then,  and  no  mother  animal 
ever  defended  her  young  like  I  did  my  savings.  I 
actually  felt  like  I  was  hugging  them  to  me  and  growl- 
ing. If  I  give  them  up  I  was  lost.  Pop  was  cooing  at 
me  again. 

"Well,  now — when  will  you  pay  it  off?"  he  was 
saying. 

I  give  him  a  straight  look  then,  and  came  back  at 
him  like  a  shot. 

"Never!"  I  says. 

Pop  give  a  laugh  and  got  to  his  feet. 

"Yes,  you  will,  Bonnie  dearie,"  he  says.  "Why, 
you  wouldn't  let  us  be  ruined  when  you  have  the 
money  in  hand!" 

"Us !"  I  says.     But  he  didn't  seem  to  hear. 

"Well,  I've  got  to  be  going  now,"  says  he.  "If  you 
need  me  for  anything  at  the  store  I'll  be  down  to  the 
poolroom  until  the  5.11  goes  out,  and  I'll  be  at  the 
depot  for  that." 

"All  right,  pop,"  I  says  listlessly,  never  moving  until 
he  was  gone.  Then,  disregarding  the  store  entirely, 
I  sat  down  on  the  nearest  place — the  edge  of  the  table 
it  was — and  thought  hard. 


50  Laughter  Limited 

Funny  how  money  affects  life,  ain't  it?  Busts  up 
any  kind  of  relationship  that  abuses  it  in  any  way. 
Look  at  me  and  pop !  Or  any  friend  you  have  loaned 
it  to !  The  demand  that  I  give  pop  my  kale  was  what 
finally  opened  my  eyes  to  him.  And  one  of  the  first 
things  I  realized  was  that  I  had  been  kidding  myself 
about  being  good  to  him.  I  hadn't  really  been  good 
to  pop.  In  making  things  easy  for  him  I'd  pretty  near 
made  it  impossible  for  him  to  help  himself.  If  I  was 
to  go  away  and  leave  him  flat  he'd  have  to  work  or 
starve,  and  I  knew  how  well  he  liked  to  eat — none 
better!  I  was  all  that  stood  between  him  and  work, 
and  I  was  about  to  move.  Where  he'd  land  I  didn't 
know.  I  didn't  honestly  care  just  then,  either. 

When  a  person  who  isn't  accustomed  to  handling 
big  decisions  actually  does  make  one  it  is  a  good  idea 
to  act  prompt,  before  something  influences  you  against 
your  true  instinctive  judgment.  I  was  going  to  Los 
Angeles.  That  much  had  been  decided  before  Stricky 
saw  me  home  last  night.  I  was  under  age,  and  if  pop 
really  wanted  to  he  could  take  my  money  away  from 
me.  The  answer  was  to  go  at  once.  Of  course  on 
the  other  hand  I  had  not  wanted  to  start  until  I  had 
my  contract  in  hand.  But  what  difference  did  that 
really  make?  Stricky  had  said  in  front  of  Bert,  that 
he  would  give  me  one,  and  what  did  I  care  if  he  sent 
it  back  home  to  me  or  if  I  signed  in  his  office  out 
West?  Either  way  would  be  just  as  good. 

But  if  the  truth  is  to  be  known,  it  wasn't  any  noble 
motives  about  saving  pop  from  himself  or  making  a 
fortune  to  restore  our  family  to  a  position  we  never 


Laughter  Limited  51 

had  that  decided  me  to  do  like  I  did.  It  was  sheer 
terror  that  pop  would  get  around  me  if  he  knew  in 
advance.  I  made  up  my  mind  he  shouldn't  know  until 
the  last  minute,  when  it  would  be  too  late. 

My  heart  beat  so  hard  it  nearly  smothered  me,  but 
I  slid  off  the  table  and  stood  firmly  on  my  feet.  I 
would  go  to-day!  On  the  5.11.  Instinctively  I  started 
gathering  up  the  dirty  dishes,  and  then  I  put  'em 
back — cold,  greasy  food  and  all. 

"Let  him  wash  'em!"  I  says  aloud.  "He's  eaten 
off  them  and  gone  free  often  enough !"  Then  I  looked 
at  the  clock  and  commenced  some  rapid  planning. 

It  was  after  one  already,  but  the  bank  would  be 
open  until  three.  I  grabbed  up  my  coat,  flopped  poor 
Milt  over  on  his  face,  dug  out  my  bank  book  like  a 
terrier  looking  for  bones,  and  half  an  hour  later  I 
was  back  with  my  money. 

Alone  in  my  disordered  room  I  fussed  about  where 
to  hide  it,  trying  each  compartment  of  my  purse,  but 
there  was  too  much.  Then  I  remembered  something 
I  had  read  some  place,  and  stuck  the  main  roll  into 
my  stocking.  You  see  I  was  starting  out  right.  Then 
I  commenced  packing  less  important  things,  beginning 
with  the  cabinet  photo  of  Milton  Sherrill  and  ending 
with  a  handful  of  samples  of  toilet  soap,  cold  cream 
and  tooth  paste  which  had  luckily  come  in  the  day 
before.  I  didn't  go  near  the  store  all  afternoon,  but 
I  heard  the  bell  over  there  jangle  a  couple  of  times 
as  disgusted  customers  went  away,  and  once  I  peeked 
through  the  front  window  and  seen  Bert  Green  com- 
ing away  from  there  in  a  wild  sort  of  manner,  drop- 


52  Laughter  Limited 

ping  the  glasses  off  his  nose  as  he  run  down  the  steps. 

The  sight  of  him  reminded  me  that  I  wished  I'd 
of  had  time  to  get  a  set  of  pictures  of  myself  from 
him  to  take  along  as  samples  in  case  I  needed  them. 
But  it  was  too  late  to  bother  now.  I  decided,  while 
cramming  my  old  spring  suit  into  my  second  bag,  that 
as  soon  as  I  was  in  a  position  to  I  would  show  my 
appreciation  for  all  he  had  done  in  introducing  me  to 
Strick  and  so  forth,  by  sending  on  for  Bert  to  come  out 
and  be  my  camera  man.  Just  now  I  couldn't  even 
stop  to  say  good-by.  It  was  almost  dusk  when  I  strug- 
gled out  into  the  street  carrying  my  two  heavy  bags. 

Night  comes  down  awful  early  in  Stonybrook  after 
November  sets  in,  and  a  few  lights  was  already  lit 
in  the  houses  here  and  there,  although  it  wasn't  but 
five  minutes  to  five.  The  street  was  pretty  well  de- 
serted, too,  for  the  loafers  was  already  gone  down  to 
see  the  express  come  in,  and  pop  was  evidently  an 
early  arrival,  or  so  I  could  safely  guess  from  the  fact 
that  there  was  nobody  up  in  Bill  Kelly's  pool  palace 
over  the  drug  store,  although  the  lights  were  lit  there. 

I  was  glad  to  have  the  street  to  myself  because  I 
wasn't  looking  for  any  delay  just  then.  And  here  is 
where  I  missed  my  cue  the  second  time  in  one  day, 
for  instead  of  the  tears  running  down  my  cheeks  at 
saying  farewell  to  my  home  town,  my  heart  aching  at 
the  thought  of  leaving,  and  etcetera,  my  mind  was 
chiefly  on  would  I  make  the  train  and  was  my  nose 
powdered  right? 

There  was  quite  a  crowd  at  the  depot  that  night, 


Laughter  Limited  53 

and  I  could  see  pop  looming  up  big  among  them  out 
on  the  front  platform  as  I  came  in  the  back  way  and 
bought  me  a  ticket  as  far  as  New  York,  knowing  that 
to  try  for  one  the  whole  way  to  Los  Angeles  would 
only  cause  delay,  and  the  time  was  short.  I  had  ex- 
actly three  minutes  to  wait  after  I  stuck  the  ticket  into 
my  purse  and  picked  my  bags  up  again.  Then  I  caught 
sight  of  Bert.  He  was  fortunately  busy  over  at  the 
express-office  window,  but  he  smiled  and  nodded  as 
he  called  out  to  me. 

"Say,  Bonnie,  you  look  immense!"  he  says.  "I'll 
be  with  you  in  a  minute!" 

The  train  was  roaring  in  by  now,  the  sound  of  it 
smothering  everything  else.  I  waited  as  long  as  I 
dared  to,  and  then,  with  just  barely  time  to  board  it,  I 
hustled  out  on  the  platform,  across  the  first  line  of 
tracks,  and  threw  my  bags  up  on  the  platform  of  the 
nearest  car.  A  brakeman  lifted  me  up  after  them, 
and  jumped  on  the  steps  himself,  swinging  his  lan- 
tern and  calling  'Board !'  in  a  loud  voice.  I  looked 
back  over  his  shoulder,  and  it  was  then  that  pop  caught 
sight  of  me. 

"Hey,  Bonnie !  What  are  you  up  to  ?"  he  shouted, 
detaching  himself  from  the  group  of  bums  against  the 
station  wall  and  lumbering  down  the  platform  towards 
me. 

"Come  out  of  that!"  he  yelled.  "Where  and  the 
devil  do  you  think  you  are  going?" 

The  train  was  moving  by  now.  Oh,  so  awful 
slowly ! 


54  Laughter  Limited 

"I'm  going  away!"  I  says,  sharp  and  clear.  "I'm 
fed  up,  and  I'm  going  for  good !  You'll  never  see  me 
again !" 

"Stop  that  damn  train!"  pop  shouted  wrathfully. 
"Stop  it  and  come  out  of  that,  you  young  hussy,  or  I'll 
beat  the  life  out  of  you!" 

Bert  had  heard  the  row  by  this  time,  and  he,  too, 
started  for  the  train.  It  was  moving  faster  every  sec- 
ond, and  he,  pushing  pop  aside,  had  to  run  pantingly 
alongside  of  it  in  order  to  speak  to  me. 

"Bonnie !"  he  cried.  "I  tried  three  times  this  after- 
noon to  see  you !  Where  are  you  going,  Bonnie  ?" 

Then  his  glasses  fell  off  and  his  long  hair  blew  back 
and  he  sure  did  look  funny  and  undignified. 

"I'm  going  to  Hollywood !"  I  shouted.  "Look  out, 
Bert,  you'll  get  hurt!" 

"Hollywood!"  he  called,  suddenly  looking  scared 
to  death  almost.  "Bonnie — you  must  not  go!  What 
I  wanted  to  tell  you  was  something  about  Greg  Strick- 
land!" 

Then  he  collided  with  my  father,  who  come  running 
up,  and  the  last  I  saw  of  them  they  was  both  hurled 
back  upon  the  station  platform  as  the  train  carried  me 
off  into  the  night. 


CHAPTER  V 

T  HAVE  always  claimed  that  nobody  can  get  some- 
••-  thing  for  nothing  in  this  world,  but  a  railroad's  re- 
ceiving money  for  the  upper  berth  in  a  sleeping  car 
comes  pretty  close  to  that.  Like  a  lot  of  folks  who  have 
never  traveled  much  I  thought  taking  one  would  be  a 
economy.  And  maybe  I  did  save,  for  I  don't  really 
know  how  much  should  a  person  count  as  overhead, 
meaning  ruining  my  only  good  hat  against  the  ceiling 
through  climbing  up  there  with  it  on  the  first  night  out 
of  New  York,  and  the  engine  being  seized  with  a  con- 
vulsive fit  of  coughing  immediately  after.  Or  how 
great  an  amount  travelers  are  accustomed  to  charging 
off  to  general  wear  and  tear.  And  by  wear  I  mean  ac- 
quiring a  Jacob's  ladder  in  my  best  silk  stocking  climb- 
ing down  the  Pullman  ladder,  and  tear  being  occasioned 
when  I  saved  myself  from  being  flung  bodily  into  the 
Grand  Canon  of  the  Colored  Porter  by  grabbing  at  a 
real  filet-lace  blouse  which  had  got  hung  on  the  hook  by 
the  filet  part.  Well  anyways,  when  I  come  to  figure 
it  up,  by  saving  twelve  dollars  on  the  berth  I  was  out 
about  twenty-five  in  other  matters. 

The  morning  after  my  arrival  in  New  York,  it 
sure  was  necessary  for  me  to  go  easy  with  my  cash, 
for  when  I  had  bought  my  ticket  to  Los  Angeles  and 
telegraphed  Stricky  not  to  send  my  contract  East  be- 
cause I  was  on  my  way,  my  roll  looked  like  it  had 

55 


56  Laughter  Limited 

been  dieting.  But  I  forgot  all  that  when  I  walked 
down  the  platform  at  the  Grand  Central  Station  and 
saw  the  Wolverine  actually  waiting  for  me — for  me! 
Sweet  daddy,  that  was  some  sensation! 

I  was  the  first  one  in  the  car,  but  pretty  soon  people 
commenced  arriving,  and  I  don't  suppose  there  is  any- 
thing more  interesting,  hardly,  than  sizing  up  the  ones 
you  are  going  to  take  a  long  train  trip  with,  and  dread- 
ing which  is  going  to  share  your  section.  I  was  all 
keyed  up  for  the  worst,  but  hoping  that  if  no  one 
showed  for  the  lower,  why  maybe  I  could  slip  the 
porter  four  bits  and  use  it  myself.  Every  time  a 
woman  with  a  baby  and  six  bags  or  so  come  in  I 
would  have  a  nervous  chill,  because  although  fond  of 
children  I  felt  I  would  be  less  so  on  a  sleeper.  But 
nobody  came  anywheres  near  me,  although  many 
passed  by  with  looks  which  caused  me  to  clutch  at  my 
bags  politely.  The  car  grew  hot  and  commenced  to 
smell  of  damp  coats  and  raw  apples.  And  then  at  the 
very  last  moment  two  really  snappy  people  come  in,  a 
man  and  a  girl. 

The  man,  who  was  tall  and  good-looking  and  about 
thirty-five  in  a  fur-lined  overcoat,  took  three  real  gen- 
uine leather  bags  with  him  into  the  drawing-room. 
Something  about  him  caught  my  eye  and  held  the  same. 
I  felt  I  had  seen  him  before,  but  I  couldn't  place  where. 
He  had  class,  all  right.  Big  time.  A  millionaire,  that's 
the  way  I  had  him  figured,  when  he  shut  his  drawing- 
room  door,  and  I  realized  that  the  girl,  who  I  had  at 
first  thought  she  was  with  him,  was  with  me,  instead. 

She  had  stopped  at  my  section,  which  was  at  once 


Laughter  Limited  57 

plainly  more  hers  than  mine,  and  stood  there  giving 
my  bags  and  me  a  rancid  look  the  way  a  person  does 
when  they  breeze  in  and  find  that  somebody  else  has 
actually  dared  to  buy  the  other  ticket. 

This  girl  was  also  a  blonde — a  whiter  one  than  me, 
with  bobbed  hair,  curled  with  an  iron,  light  blue  eyes 
with  beads  on  the  white  lashes,  a  black  crepe  dress 
sloshing  with  steel  beads,  and  a  pair  of  stockings  built 
on  the  chicken  principle.  I  mean  chicken  soup.  You 
know  the  kind  where  they  pass  a  chicken  through  the 
kitchen  to  flavor  it?  Well,  a  silkworm  had  give  one 
glance  at  her  legs.  Lord  knows  what  she  wore  in 
summer ! 

"Boy!"  says  she  to  the  porter.  "Put  my  things 
here !  I  have  the  lower!"  And  she  gave  him  a  dollar. 
A  bean — one  entire  rug — for  staggering  in  with  a  ten- 
inch  black  leather  dressing  case,  a  box  of  candy  and 
seven  magazines! 

Well,  that  made  me  feel  about  like  a  second-hand 
shrimp,  and  we  didn't  talk  for  a  while  after  she  had 
sat  down  all  over  her  seat,  and  the  train  at  last  begun 
to  move.  You  know  the  way  it  is.  A  person  starts 
on  a  long  train  journey  with  all  the  exclusiveness  in 
the  world,  and  about  the  second  day  out  they  have  all 
the  exclusiveness  of  the  average  sardine.  But  any- 
ways, she  and  I  looked  quite  a  while  before  we  spoke. 

"Going  far?"  she  says  at  last,  smothering  a  yawn 
with  a  copy  of  Closeups  she  had  with  her.  I  put  my 
own  copy  down,  glad  to  be  friendly,  even  if  I  could 
feel  her  putting  price  tags  on  every  stitch  I  wore  while 
she  talked. 


58  Laughter  Limited 

"To  California!"  I  says  impressively.  But  I  missed 
fire. 

"So  am  I,"  she  says  composedly.    "Hollywood !" 

I  sat  up  in  my  backwards  seat  like  a  shot. 

"So  am  I!"  I  echoed.    "Are  you  in  pictures?" 

"Yes,"  says  she.  Then  after  a  little  pause,  "In  a 
way,"  she  added,  looking  me  through  and  through, 
kind  of  hard  and  cold.  "What  are  you  going  out 
there  for?" 

"I  am  going  for  the  pictures  too,"  I  says.  "I  got 
a  contract  with  Silvermount." 

All  at  once  little  Crystal  Icicle's  manner  changed. 
She  smiled  at  me  in  the  sweetest  way,  and  even  before 
I  could  qualify  my  remark,  which  I  hadn't  really  meant 
it  to  be  a  lie,  but  it  had  just  sprung  spontaneously  to 
my  lips  the  way  those  things  will  with  strangers,  she 
leaned  forward  and  put  one  hand  on  my  knee. 

"No !"  she  says.  "Ain't  that  interesting !  I  wonder 
if  you  could  help  me  to  get  in,  dear?" 

Whatter  you  know !  I  was  knocked  so  cold  that  I 
just  sat  like  a  regular  dumb-bell  and  let  her  gurgle  on. 

"You  see,  I'm  not  exactly  in  the  pictures  yet,"  she 
explained.  "But  I've  got  no  end  of  talent.  Every- 
body in  our  town  thinks  I  have.  So  I  decided  to  go 
out  to  Los  and  take  a  chance.  There's  big  money  in 
pictures,  and  lots  of  girls  get  it  easy !" 

"Yes,  so  I've  heard !"  I  managed  to  get  out,  seeing 
at  the  same  time  that  the  hat  was  probably  home-made 
after  all. 

"But  I  don't  know  a  soul  there,"  she  went  on.  "I'm 
going  on  a  gamble,  but  I'm  going  to  play  for  big 


Laughter  Limited  59 

things.  If  a  girl  has  got  lots  of  jazz  to  her,  and  ex- 
pensive clothes,  and  spends  freely,  she  ought  to  get  by, 
don't  you  think?" 

"I  can't  think  so  quick  as  that!"  I  says. 

"Well,"  says  she,  "I  had  over  three  hundred  dollars 
saved,  so  I  spent  sixty  on  this  dress,  bought  my  ticket, 
and  here  I  am !" 

She  laughed  a  little,  nervously,  crossed  those  gos- 
samer legs  of  hers,  and  leaned  back  in  her  seat  looking 
like  a  million  dollars,  but  actually  less  well  off  than 
myself. 

"So  if  you:  know  anybody  with  influence,  honey," 
she  says,  "I'd  love  an  introduction." 

Well,  I  suppose  here  is  where  I  should  of  confessed 
just  exactly  how  things  was.  But  I  didn't.  To  begin 
with,  as  I  have  since  learned,  there  is  something  about 
pictures  which  causes  pretty  nearly  everybody  who 
touches  them  to  exaggerate.  I  suppose  because  pic- 
ture figures  and  facts  are  so  big  in  reality  that  a  person 
gets  subconsciously  to  feeling  why  not  make  'em  even 
better?  So  I  let  sleeping  dogs  dream  on. 

"Well,"  I  says  casually,  "I  could  introduce  you  to 
the  casting  director  at  Silvermount." 

"Say,  you're  a  peach  if  you  will!"  says  the  girl. 
"My  name  is  Gertie  Gross.  Professional  name,  Anita 
Lauber." 

"I  am  Bonnie  McFadden,"  I  says.  "Professional 
name  unknown !" 

"Oh,  no!  Don't  say  that,  Miss  McFadden!"  says 
Anita  so  earnestly  that  honest,  I  just  hated  to  disil- 
lusion her. 


60  Laughter  Limited 

"But  it  is  unknown,"  I  insisted.  "I'm  only  begin- 
ning. To  tell  the  whole  truth  this  is  my  first  contract." 

I  could  see  my  stock  fall  a  little  then,  but  I  knew 
a  casting  director,  and  that  was  enough. 

"Well,  you're  in  luck  to  be  going  out  on  contract!" 
says  Miss  Lauber.  "Whereabouts  do  you  come  from, 
dear?" 

I  told  her.  Well,  I  made  it  sound  just  a  little  better 
than  it  was,  perhaps.  But  any  home  seems  that  way, 
once  you  are  far  enough  off  from  it. 

"That's  funny !"  says  she.  "We  seem  to  be  starting 
out  pretty  near  even.  Both  blondes  and  I'll  say  about 
the  same  age,  although  I'm  a  little  bit  younger,  maybe. 
Both  from  small  towns.  My  home  is  in  Southington, 
New  Jersey.  Mommer  owns  the  bakery." 

"What  do  you  think  is  the  best  way  to  get  by  in 
pictures?"  I  says. 

"Pep!"  she  says  promptly.  "Pep,  at  any  cost.  And 
get  a  few  men  to  boost  you.  You  know  how  it  is  with 
a  girl  on  her  own.  She's  generally  out  of  luck,  don't 
you  think?" 

"Not  if  she  can  deliver  the  goods,"  I  says.  "Ariy 
more  than  a  boy  on  his  own." 

"Well,  here's  hoping!"  Miss  Lauber  says  with  a 
laugh.  "I  intend  to  have  a  big  time  anyways !" 

I  didn't  say  nothing  against  that  because  what  was 
the  use  starting  an  argument  with  four  days  in  the 
same  section  still  ahead  of  us  ?  I  might  have  the  upper 
berth,  but  I  had  also  intuition  and  tact,  so  I  switched 
the  talk  to  exchanging  opinions  on  well-known  stars 
and  what  was  wrong  with  their  work,  and  it's  a  pity 


Laughter  Limited  61 

they  couldn't  of  been  there  so's  to  benefit  by  what  we 
said,  for  we  was  frank  and  merciless.  Then  we  ate 
together  and  after  that  we  come  back  to  our  car,  which 
had  become  a  swaying  forest  of  green  curtains.  All 
this  time  I  hadn't  even  got  one  more  look  at  the  big 
egg  in  the  drawing-room  but  only  a  waiter  coming  out 
of  there  with  a  pretty  well  wrecked  tray. 

"Did  you  notice  him?"  says  Anita,  for  by  now  we 
were  of  course  on  first-name  terms.  "The  John  in  the 
private  room?" 

"I'll  say  I  did !"  I  says.  "Pretty  soft,  traveling  like 
that!" 

"We  ought  to  make  him,"  says  Anita,  "sometime 
to-morrow !" 

Well,  I  didn't  reply  to  that,  either,  except  to  say 
"Good-night"  which  she  could  take  anyways  she 
wanted.  I  had  even  then  discovered  that  a  good  way 
to  keep  friends  is  to  pass  by  a  number  of  their  re- 
marks. I  just  climbed  the  stepladder,  did  a  Houdini 
out  of  my  clothes,  and  lay  down  in  a  sudden  awful 
lonesomeness.  I  wanted  pop  and  Ella  and  Bert  and 
everybody.  I  wondered  if  I  wasn't  maybe  the  biggest 
darn  fool  that  had  ever  run  away  from  home.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  if  I  couldn't  see  the  home  folks  that 
minute  I  should  die.  And  then  all  of  a  sudden  I 
remembered  that  I  had  one  of  them  right  with  me, 
and  struggling  up  I  reached  for  my  bag  at  the  foot  of 
the  berth,  drew  out  Milton  Sherrill's  photo,  and 
crawled  back  under  the  covers  with  it,  holding  it  close 
to  me  and  feeling  comforted  right  away. 

I  don't  know  if  you  know  how  it  is,  but  every  girl 


62  Laughter  Limited 

has  a  dream-ideal  lover,  and  Milt  was  mine.  He  was 
as  real  to  me  as  anything.  I  had  him  a  courteous 
gallant  gentleman,  full  of  high  ideals,  chivalry,  money 
and  love.  To  my  mind  he  had  everything  but  wings, 
and  as  the  matter  was  entirely  in  my  own  hands  I  had 
give  him  golf  clubs  instead,  because  of  preferring  that 
sort  of  man.  This  image  which  I  had  made  of  him 
was  what  had  kept  me  off  the  boys  around  Stony- 
brook.  They  all  seemed  such  clowns  alongside  of  him 
that  I  could  not  feel  real  interested  in  any  of  them. 
So  you  can  imagine  that  as  soon  as  I  had  hold  of 
Milt's  picture  my  heart  eased  up  considerably.  I  even 
went  so  far  as  to  feel  that  he  would  O.K.  my  running 
away  from  Stonybrook  to  become  somebody  big  in  the 
world,  for  he  had  done  it  himself  and  would  under- 
stand. And  thinking  this  I  somehow  went  to  sleep. 

When  I  woke  up  early  next  morning  I  did  so  from 
having  made  up  my  mind  in  advance  that  I  would. 
You  see  it  come  to  me  that  it  might  be  a  good  idea 
to  get  ahead  of  the  crowd  and  make  a  dash  for  the 
washroom  before  anybody  else  got  started.  And  I'll 
say  it  turned  out  to  be  a  good  idea,  too,  because  there 
was  only  seven  women  there  ahead  of  me. 

When  I  was  neat  but  not  laundered,  the  way  a  per- 
son traveling  has  to  be,  I  was  so  hungry  I  just  nat- 
urally couldn't  wait  for  Anita.  Her  curtains  was  still 
closed,  and  so  I  beat  it  back  to  the  diner  alone,  and  the 
captain  led  me  to  the  only  empty  place  in  the  car — a 
seat  at  a  table  where  a  man  was  already  absorbing 
cereal. 

The  waiter  drew  out  the  empty  chair,  shoved  me 


Laughter  Limited  63 

into  it  quick,  and  give  me  a  menu  and  pad  like  he  was 
handing  out  examination  papers.  I  looked  at  the  menu 
first,  and  then  I  naturally  looked  up  to  see  what  the 
man  opposite  me  was  eating,  and  then  I  got  a  shock, 
because  he  was  the  one  from  the  drawing-room  in  our 
car,  and  soon  as  I  saw  him  face  to  face  I  knew  him. 
It  was  Milton  Sherrill. 


CHAPTER  VI 

WELL,  I  suppose  it's  my  cue  to  say  at  first  I 
couldn't  believe  it,  but  here's  where  I  miss 
again.  I  believed  my  eyes,  and  my  memory,  too,  right 
off  the  reel.  His  face  was  too  familiar  for  there  to  be 
the  slightest  chance  of  a  mistake.  Hadn't  I  been  talk- 
ing to  him  about  all  kinds  of  intimate  things  for  years  ? 
Didn't  he  know  every  secret  I  had,  and  every  ambi- 
tion? Hadn't  I  been  watching  after  his  mother's 
things  for  him  and  asking  him  every  so  often  how 
he'd  like  it  done?  I'll  say  I  had!  Why,  I  even 
realized  that  deep  down  in  me  I  had  known  him  last 
night  when  he  stood  in  his  drawing-room  door,  tip- 
ping the  porter.  And  there  he  was,  after  me  knowing 
him  so  well  for  such  a  long  time,  sitting  opposite  to 
me,  a  perfect  stranger! 

I  could  tell  from  the  way  he  looked  up  at  me  over 
his  oatmeal  that  he  didn't  have  any  idea  who  I  was. 
Of  course  that  was  natural,  as  he  had  never  seen  me 
except  when  I  was  a  little  bit  of  a  kid.  But  his  eyes 
were  friendly.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I  guess  he  seemed 
stranger  to  me  than  I  to  him.  Sweet  daddy,  it  was 
some  shock!  If  a  person  has  been  dreaming  of  float- 
ing on  clouds  and  wakes  up  to  a  hair  mattress,  however 
good,  there  is  a  big  difference.  He  was  Milton  Sher- 
rill,  all  right,  but  more  as  God  had  made  him  than 
as  I  had. 

Well,  while  I  sat  there  like  a  dumb-bell  Milt's  ex- 

64 


Laughter  Limited  65 

pression  registered  "Nice-looking-girl  but  I  don't  know 
the  child,"  and  went  back  to  the  oats,  because  he  was 
no  chicken  hunter,  anybody  could  see  that;  and  no 
fresh  drummer,  either,  but  a  high-class  wealthy  citi- 
zen, very  dignified  in  made-to-order  clothes.  Hastily 
I  looked  away  and  wrote  "One  boiled  egg,  glass  of 
milk"  like  I  was  sending  a  desperate  telegram,  and 
the  waiter  snatched  it  and  read  it  out  in  a  loud  voice 
that  mortified  me,  especially  when  he  shouted  "Ain't 
you  gwine  ter  have  no  bread?"  and  went  away  while 
I  wondered  nervously  what  would  I  do. 

Of  course  my  dream  had  suffered,  but  still  and  all 
I  didn't  want  to  lose  Milt,  or  rather  Mr.  Sherrill,  as 
his  actual  presence  instantly  made  him  seem.  If  I 
didn't  speak  soon  my  opening  would  maybe  be  gone. 
So  I  decided  to  take  a  chance,  and  said  "Ahem."  But 
Mr.  Sherrill  only  turned  his  newspaper  and  coaxed 
another  spoonful  behind  it.  I  was  desperate. 

"Pardon  me,"  I  says  at  last,  "are  you  Mr.  Milton 
Sherrill?"  Of  all  the  boob  questions! 

"What  the I  beg  your  pardon.  Yes,  I  am !" 

he  answered,  putting  the  paper  down  so  prompt  I 
could  tell  he  had  been  taking  more  notice  of  me  than 
I  had  give  him  credit  for. 

"I  am  Bonnie  McFadden,  Mr.  Sherrill,"  I  says, 
and  waited.  He  didn't  get  it. 

"McFadden?"  he  says,  polite  and  smiling,  but 
puzzled. 

"Stonybrook,"  I  says. 

"Stonybrook  ?"  he  repeated,  a  light  breaking.  "Why, 
there's  an  old  chap  on  my  place,  but " 


66  Laughter  Limited 

"Yeh,  I  know!"  I  said.  "That's  pop.  I'm  the 
kid." 

"How  amazing!"  he  says.     "And  how  delightful!" 

Well,  his  smile  sure  was  pleasant!  And  as  I  looked 
at  it  I  begun  to  feel  like  a  quitter.  For  who  would 
take  care  of  his  mother's  house,  now  that  I  was  gone? 
Gee,  I  hoped  he'd  fire  pop  if  pop  didn't  brace  up  and 
do  the  right  thing. 

"I  know  every  inch  of  your  home,  you  see !"  I  told 
him.  "I've  dusted  it  often  enough  to,  anyways!" 

"You  don't  look  it  a  particle!"  he  blurted  out.  "I 
say,  that  wasn't  an  awfully  tactful  remark,  was  it? 
But  you've  rather  taken  me  off  my  feet!" 

"How  about  me?"  I  says.  "I'm  a  little  jolted  by 
this  meeting  myself !" 

"Where  are  you  going?"  was  his  next  question. 

I  told  him  Los  Angeles,  and  he  frowned,  looking 
older. 

"Are  you  a  motion-picture  actress?"  he  asked. 

"Not  yet,"  I  said.  "But  I  will  be  as  soon  as  I  get 
there." 

"Well,  I  suppose  it  is  natural  that  you  should 
want  to  do  it,"  he  said.  "But  it  seems  a  pity, 
somehow." 

"My  stars,  why?"  I  asked,  my  eyes  popping  open. 
It  would  be  awful  if  Mr.  M.  Sherrill  turned  out  to  be 
a  crab ! 

"Oh,  the  life,  and  what  not!"  he  says.  "So  arti- 
ficial. You  are  obliged  to  do  something  for  a  living, 
though,  I  suppose  ?" 

"Of  course  I  am !"  I  says.    "And  I  would  anyhow !" 


Laughter  Limited  67 

Well,  he  approved  of  that,  for  he  smiled  again  and 
shot  a  keen,  friendly  look  at  me  from  under  his  heavy 
brows. 

"One  does,  these  days !"  he  says.  "I  say,  if  you  have 
finished,  shall  we  go  back  into  the  observation  car? 
I  want  to  hear  all  about  Stonybrook.  I  was  disap- 
pointed at  not  getting  a  chance  to  run  out  there  this 
trip.  How  did  you  leave  your  father?" 

"Rather  hastily,"  I  says,  getting  up  and  following 
him  out. 

And  after  we  had  bounced  down  a  corridor  or  two 
we  came  into  the  observation  car,  which  was  almost 
empty,  and  took  seats  beside  each  other. 

"Now  tell  me!"  says  Milton. 

I  took  my  mind  off  my  disappointment  in  him  for 
having  dared  to  grow  so  much  older,  and  told  him 
everything,  from  how  I  had  repainted  the  iron  stags 
last  year,  to  how  I  loved  the  portrait  of  his  mother 
over  the  parlor  mantel.  I  guess  I  must  of  spoke  real 
enthusiastic  and  earnest,  and  he  got  it.  His  face  grew 
younger  and  softer  as  he  listened  to  me,  putting  in  a 
question  now  and  then  and  the  first  thing  you  knew 
he  was  all  sort  of  warmed  up.  I  commenced  to  think 
he  was  pretty  nice,  though  not  the  romantic  style,  of 
course,  like  Stricky. 

About  an  hour  later  Anita  came  tripping  into  the 
observation  car,  looking  for  me  or  anybody.  When 
she  saw  Mr.  Sherrill  and  I,  she  give  all  the  signs 
of  having  found  what  she  was  after,  and  only  very 
reluctantly  backed  off  on  my  signal,  which  I  had  to 
repeat  several  times.  But  finally  she  did  go,  making 


68  Laughter  Limited 

a  face  which  said  "Stingy"  as  plain  as  if  she  had 
shouted  it. 

As  for  Mr.  Sherrill,  it  just  seemed  as  if  he  couldn't 
get  enough  of  my  description  and  news  and  so  forth. 
But  after  a  while  he  pulled  out  a  thin  gold  watch 
and  got  to  his  feet. 

"My  dear  child,  do  you  know  that  we  shall  be  in 
Chicago  in  twenty  minutes  ?"  says  he.  "What  line  do 
you  go  out  on — the  Union?  That's  my  way  too. 
But  we  don't  leave  until  late  this  afternoon.  Will 
you  let  me  take  you  to  lunch  somewhere?" 

Would  I?  Sweet  daddy!  Would  I  like  to  walk 
around  with  a  million  dollars! 

"Why,  yes,  thanks,"  I  says  with  one  and  one-half 
ounces  of  hesitation. 

Then  I  walked  on  air  back  to  my  section,  where 
Anita  was  putting  the  finishing  touch  to  her  lips, 
through  her  veil. 

"Well!"  she  says.    "So  you  flagged  him  first,  eh?" 

"He's  an  old  friend  of  pop's!"  I  snapped  back  in- 
dignantly. 

"That  one  came  out  of  the  ark,"  remarked  Anita. 
"Hustle  now,  dear;  we  are  nearly  in.  You  can  tell 
me  all  about  it  at  lunch." 

"No,  I  can't,"  I  says.  "I'm— well,  I'm  lunching 
with  him,  and  he  really  is  what  I  say."  And  then 
the  porter  came  looking  for  our  tips  and  bags  and 
things. 

I  had  dinner  with  him,  too,  that  night  on  the  lim- 
ited, but  I  ducked  breakfast  next  morning  because  I 
was  ashamed  of  his  paying  all  those  checks.  However, 


Laughter  Limited  69 

he  come  and  found  me  at  lunch  time  and  asked  Anita 
as  well,  and  we  ate  it  flying  across  the  prairie,  and 
after  that  I  give  up  all  resistance  and  let  him  feed  me. 
My  whole  idea  of  America  come  to  be  Milton  Sherrill 
cornfields  and  corn  flakes  through  Illinois;  Milton 
Sherrill  roast  lamb  and  roast  beef  through  the  sheep 
and  cattle  country.  And  in  between  mealtimes,  Milton 
Sherrill  and  talk  about  everything  under  the  sun 
pretty  nearly.  Isn't  it  a  fact  a  train  can  make  you 
acquainted  quicker  than  almost  any  other  place  except 
maybe  jail? 

On  the  second  day  out  I  again  felt  I  had  known 
him  as  he  was  all  my  life.  Things  were  either  right 
or  wrong  to  Mr.  Sherrill,  and  that  was  all  there 
was  to  it.  About  the  pictures,  especially.  He  didn't 
like  anything  about  the  pictures,  and  he  didn't  care 
for  me  going  into  them  either. 

"Look  here,  Miss  McFadden!"  he  says  over  one 
of  our  small  coffees  the  third  night  out.  "Look  here, 
Miss  McFadden,  I've  only  known  you  for  a  few  days, 
but  I  really  am  a  friend,  and  I'm  going  to  speak 
accordingly.  Why  do  you  go  into  the  moving-picture 
game?" 

"Why  not  ?"  I  says.     "It's  my  ambition." 

"Well,  but  look  here!"  he  says.  "Have  you  any 
idea  of  the  sort  of  thing  you  are  going  to  run  up 
against  ?" 

"I've  got  an  idea  I  can  act,  and  that  I  can  sell  that 
talent  for  a  fair  price,"  I  says.  "Outside  of  which 
I  guess  I  can  take  care  of  myself.  Why  do  you  pick 
on  the  pictures  so?" 


70  Laughter  Limited 

"Personally,  I  wouldn't  touch  them  with  a  ten- 
foot  pole,"  says  he.  "I  mean  for  myself,  and  I  hope 
none  of  my  interests  will  ever  become  involved  in 
the  industry!" 

"But,"  I  says,  "if  I  get  a  good  contract?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  he,  "except  that  the  contract 
may  not  be  good.  Look  here,  now !  Why  run  amuck 
of  that  crowd?  Why  not  forget  pictures  and  come 
to  San  Francisco  instead,  and  work  for  me?" 

"Why,  Mr.  Sherrill!"  I  says,  and  I'll  say  I  really 
was  as  surprised  as  I  looked.  "Why,  Mr.  Sherrill,  how 
do  you  know  I  would  be  any  good?" 

"Because  it  is  my  business  to  know  people,"  he  says 
with  a  confident  little  smile,  much  as  Stricky  had 
recommended  his  own  judgment.  "The  head  of  a 
great  banking  concern  has  to  be  a  judge  of  human 
nature,  among  other  things,  and  I  have  seen  enough 
of  you  to  know  that  you  have  exceptional  ability.  You 
would  need  training,  of  course,  but  we  can  give  you 
that,  and  the  chance  to  go  as  far  as  you  prove  able." 

We  sat  quiet  for  a  moment  before  I  spoke. 

"Oh,  I  couldn't!"  I  said  then.  "A  bank!  No,  I'd 
feel  shut  in — smothered,  somehow.  Thanks  just  the 
same,  but  I'll  take  my  chance  in  the  pictures." 

"Well,  I'm  sorry!"  says  he.  "But  remember,  my 
offer  stands  if  you  should  ever  change  your  mind. 
You  have  my  address  and  you  can  come  to — us,  at 
any  time." 

The  train  slowed  up  at  some  tiny  station  high  in 
the  Sierra  Mountains,  and  we  went  and  got  our  coats 
and  took  a  demi-tasse  of  a  walk  out  in  the  clean  sweet 


Laughter  Limited  71 

air  under  a  cold  moon,  briskly  up  and  down  for  ten 
minutes.  Arm  in  arm  we  tramped,  swinging  along 
together,  our  feet  beating  out  a  sort  of  marching  tune 
as  we  went.  We  had  done  this  at  pretty  near  every 
station  where  the  train  had  stopped,  the  whole  ways 
across. 

As  you  may  of  noticed,  we  was  still  on  last  names. 
Of  course  I  was  hep  to  the  fact  he  must  like  me  pretty 
well  or  he  wouldn't  of  fed  me  so  much.  But  he  had 
never  stirred  a  finger  or  an  eyelash  that  wasn't  per- 
fectly elegantly  respectful.  A  new  experience  for  me, 
that  was,  because  usually  I  have  to  christen  them  with 
an  ax  about  the  third  visit.  So  I  was  all  the  more 
surprised  when  what  happened,  did. 

We  were  walking,  as  I  said,  up  and  down  the  cin- 
ders by  the  train,  along  with  a  few  scattered  other 
passengers  who  had  actually  stayed  up  after  nine 
o'clock,  and  Milt  hadn't  said  a  word.  The  whole  en- 
tire U.  S.  A.  seemed  to  be  spread  out  under  the  moon 
for  us,  the  view  was  that  big  and  grand,  and  conver- 
sation doesn't  flourish  so  well  at  such  a  time  and 
place. 

Up  at  the  darkest  end  of  the  train,  which  hap- 
pened to  be  right  at  our  own  car  lobby,  he  stopped. 

"This  is  the  last  time  I  shall  see  you,"  he  says.  "I 
am  getting  off  at  Reno  on  business.  I  got  the  wire 
at  dinner  time." 

"Oh !"  I  says  sharply.    "I  will  miss  you !" 

And  then  all  of  a  sudden  he  kissed  me;  actually 
took  me  fiercely  in  his  arms  and  give  me  a  long  kiss 
on  the  mouth. 


72  Laughter  Limited 

"You  are  the  sweetest  thing  I  have  ever  met!"  he 
said.  "And  some  day  I  am  going  to  tell  you  more 
about  it!" 

I  was  absolutely  surprised.  Honest!  I  know  that 
there  is  an  idea  about  girls  that  they  can  always  tell 
when  a  thing  like  that  is  coming,  but  that's  only  the 
rule  and  this  was  the  exception.  I  felt  like  the  King 
of  England  or  the  President  or  somebody  equally  un- 
likely had  kissed  me. 

Well,  to  save  the  situation,  and  before  I  could  think 
of  any  remark,  for  nothing  came  instinctive,  the  brake- 
man  yelled  his  warning,  Mr.  Sherrill  swung  me  aboard 
the  train  with  a  strong  sweep  of  his  arm,  and  we  were 
in  the  lobby. 

That  was  no  good,  for  Anita  was  there  with  a  young 
fellow  she  had  made  that  day.  And  so  Mr.  Sherrill 
and  I  said  nothing  excepting  only  a  whispered  "Good- 
by"  among  the  evergreen  curtains,  and  he  went  off  to 
his  luxurious  bed  while  I  climbed  aloft  and  tried 
to  sleep. 

I  was  so  excited  and  upset  for  a  long  time  while  I 
couldn't.  But  when  I  did  drop  off  at  last  it  was 
Greg  Strickland  that  I  dreamed  of.  Ain't  women  the 
pink  limit,  though? 

And  it  was  not  until  next  morning  when  we  was 
rushing  down  through  the  colorful  riot  of  California, 
with  its  wonderful  orchards,  the  scattered  gold  of  its 
poppies,  and  the  flame  of  its  scarlet  geranium  hedges, 
all  of  which  Anita  and  me  was  taking  in  with  our 
tongues  hanging  out,  that  I  realized  I  hadn't  given 
Milton  Sherrill  any  address. 


Laughter  Limited  73 

"What  do  you  worry  for?"  she  says.  "Wire  him 
one." 

"But  I  don't  know  where  to  say,"  I  protested. 

"Give  him  the  Laurelwood  Hotel,"  says  Anita. 
"That's  the  big-time  place." 

"A  hotel  like  that,"  I  says,  "sounds  away  out  of 
my  class." 

"Don't  be  a  dumb-bell!"  says  Anita.  "Start  out 
big,  and  they  will  think  more  of  you,  honey!  You 
take  it  from  me  and  go  to  the  best  place.  Take  a 
suite.  Put  on  a  lot  of  dog,  and  the  difference  will 
show  in  the  contract  they  give  you.  What  do  you 
think  actorines  wear  big  diamonds  for,  anyways?" 

"For  pleasure,"  says  I  meekly. 

"For  business !''  says  Anita  firmly. 

And  somehow  Anita's  judgment  won  out.  After 
all,  my  contract  would  call  for  not  less  than  seventy- 
five  dollars  a  week !  And  so  next  morning  at  the  Los 
Angeles  depot,  when  the  boy  took  my  bags  and  says 
"Where  to?"  I  says  "The  Laurelwood  Hotel,"  and 
stepped  gayly  into  his  taxicab. 


CHAPTER  VII 

TF  SAINT  PETER  was  to  take  advantage  of  a 
•**  time  when  God  wasn't  looking  and  start  a  thor- 
oughly modern  real-estate  development  in  heaven  it 
would  look  like  Southern  California. 

Anyways,  that's  how  Los  Angeles  seemed  to  me 
as  I  drove  through  it  after  vainly  searching  around 
the  depot  for  Anita,  and  she  not  showing  up.  So  I 
had  to  go  without  her,  and  pretty  soon  I  forgot  her 
altogether.  There  was  a  new  world  opening  up  right 
before  my  very  eyes,  and  I  was  so  afraid  of  missing 
a  trick  that  my  head  turned  around  like  a  put-and- 
take  top 

Doubtless  with  all  the  blue  laws  going  into  effect 
the  way  they  are,  the  housing  conditions  in  heaven 
will  need  to  be  hastily  increased,  so  maybe  they 
wouldn't  stop  Saint  Peter  on  such  a  job  as  I  have 
described.  But  Los  Angeles  had  evidently  been 
stopped  in  places,  for  there  was  great  gaps  of  empty 
lots  scattered  all  through  every  district.  But  it  seems 
nothing  stops  that  town  for  very  long,  and  it  just 
naturally  burst  out  again  a  few  blocks  farther  on. 

There  was  no  end  to  the  place,  apparently,  and 
we  rolled  on  and  on  over  eleven  miles  of  boulevard, 
the  driver  steering  with  the  little  finger  of  his  left 
hand,  his  foot  all  the  ways  down  on  the  gas,  and 
every  other  car  on  the  road  doing  the  same,  but  no- 

74 


Laughter  Limited  75 

body  hitting  each  other  very  often.  I  could  see  at 
once  why  they  made  the  streets  so  wide.  It  was  on 
account  of  the  reckless  drivers,  and  the  size  of  the 
machines.  For  it's  a  fact  that  practically  all  cars  in 
Southern  California  are  out-sized  just  like  the  fruit 
and  flowers. 

Well,  after  madly  dashing  past  thousands  of  Italian 
villas,  Greek  bungalows  and  apartment  houses  dis- 
guised as  colonial  mansions  or  mission-style  cottages 
grouped  around  courtyards  literally  overflowing  with 
flowers  and  labeled  El  This  or  Del  That — some  Span- 
ish stuff,  I  guess  it  was — the  driver  turned  around 
and  yelled  along  the  wind,  "This  is  Hollywood  we  are 
coming  into  now!" 

I  was  glad  he  mentioned  it  because  otherwise  I 
couldn't  of  told  where  Los  Angeles  ended  and  the 
great  movie  center  begun.  There  was  the  same  gay 
big-windowed  shops,  with  apartments  over  them  and 
flower  boxes  blooming  everywheres  under  bright  awn- 
ings ;  the  same  rows  of  palmetto  trees,  the  same  phono- 
graph shops,  and  gardens  of  petunias,  fuchsia,  roses, 
buginvillaea,  and  every  flower  in  the  world,  I  guess. 
There  was  the  same  extra-special  brand  of  sunshine, 
and  the  same  general  ice-cream  strawberry-and- 
vanilla-mixed  effect.  But  not  the  same  people. 

All  at  once  the  streets  held  a  higher  per  cent  of 
well-dressed  folks.  White  flannels  burst  into  view  in 
great  numbers.  Four  times  I  thought  I  saw  Wallace 
Reid  standing  on  a  corner,  and  six  times  a  head  of 
blond  curls  turned  around  and  it  wasn't  Mary  Pick- 
ford.  But  I  got  considerable  kick  out  of  the  thought 


76  Laughter  Limited 

that  it  might  of  been  either  or  both,  or  would  be, 
next  time.  And  then  before  I  had  time  to  run  into 
Charlie  Chaplin  or  Tom  Mix  we  drew  up  in  front 
of  a  summer  hotel  of  a  permanent  winter  type,  with 
a  yard  full  of  flowers  and  big  cars,  and  a  porch  full 
of  hams. 

A  dozen  pair  of  white  flannels  crossed  themselves 
the  other  way  as  I  crossed  the  veranda  headed  for 
the  hotel  entrance,  and  as  many  rocking-chairs  come 
to  salute  while  assorted  ladies  gave  me  the  double  O. 
All  at  once  I  felt  with  a  uncomfortable  sharpness 
that  while  a  self-made  girl  was  all  right,  self-made 
clothes  are  not  so  good.  However,  remembering  that 
my  face,  hair  and  ambition  were  the  real  thing,  any- 
ways, I  took  courage  to  march  into  the  real  genuine 
solid  light  oak  office  and  inquire  about  board.  A 
cheery,  not  to  say  sportsmanlike  bird  behind  the  desk 
allowed  me  to  finish  my  sentence  before  he  sprung 
the  bad  news. 

"Forty-five  to  eighty-five  dollars  a  week,"  he  says, 
his  head  on  one  side,  his  manner  all  sympathy  like 
a  doctor  that  knew  you  couldn't  last  long.  "American 
plan  only.  That's  all  your  meals,  room  and  bath." 

"I'll  take  the  cheapest  edition  for  the  present,"  I 
says,  and  he  beckoned  for  a  Jap  boy  which  I  had 
thought  at  first  was  a  Japanese  soldier  and  was  sort 
of  afraid  of  him,  but  not  enough  afraid  as  it  turned 
out,  because  he  was  what  was  worse,  a  bellhop. 

"In  the  pictures?"  says  the  clerk.  "Just  sign  here, 
please !"  And  he  slipped  me  a  pen,  all  politely  dipped, 
and  the  register.  I  took  it,  and  then  I  had  to  hesitate 


Laughter  Limited  77 

because  I  realized  I  hadn't  taken  time  coming  out  to 
think  up  a  good  picture  name.  And  now  my  mind 
went  perfectly  blank  on  the  subject  and  all  I  could  think 
of  was  Alia  Nazimova,  but  I  couldn't  very  well  put 
that  down,  so  I  had  in  desperation  to  write  my  own. 
But  I  put  New  York  after  it,  instead  of  Stonybrook. 
That  seemed  safe,  as  New  York  is  big  enough  so  that 
nobody  from  there  would  be  likely  to  tell  on  me.  I 
give  the  clerical  cutie  back  his  pen  and  threw  in  a 
smile  for  luck. 

"Pictures?"  I  says,  "Why,  yes.  I  expect  to  go  to 
the  Silvermount  Super-Production  Company." 

"That  so?"  he  remarked  with  professional  interest. 
"We  get  practically  all  the  famous  people  here,  sooner 
or  later!  Boy!  Show  Miss  McFadden  up!" 

His  air  had  shown  me  up  already,  but  I  could 
hardly  expect  him  to  fall  dead  at  the  honor  of  enter- 
taining an  almost-actress.  So  with  my  feelings  per- 
fectly healthy  and  intact,  I  followed  the  Jap  private 
up  two  flights  of  red-covered  stairs,  along  a  light  cor- 
ridor to  a  door  which  he  opened  and  let  me  into  a  big 
airy  room  with  a  little  balcony  outside,  and  a  pal- 
metto tree  so  close  I  could  actually  touch  it!  And 
this  balcony  was  my  private  one,  and  even  more  ex- 
citing to  me  than  my  first  private  bath. 

The  room  itself  I  didn't  think  much  of,  for  it 
was  stripped  right  down  to  bare  necessities.  There 
wasn't  a  thing  in  it,  from  the  curly-maple  bureau  to 
the  iron  bed,  that  could  possibly  of  been  spared  and 
let  the  hotel  management  get  away  with  the  rent. 
Even  the  window  curtains  was  the  least  possible,  and 


78  Laughter  Limited 

not  a  picture  was  on  the  walls.  It  give  the  room  an 
awful  bleak  look,  with  no  cheer  at  all,  and  at  first  I 
thought  how  mean  of  the  management,  for  isn't  an 
actor's  life  dreary  enough  without  this?  I  didn't  yet 
realize  that  in  the  Laurelwood  Hotel  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  for  the  owner  to  make  the  rooms  as  near 
as  possible  actor-proof.  Otherwise  there  would  be  no 
furniture  left  at  the  end  of  a  season  and  it's  cheaper 
to  let  them  bring  in  their  own  to  break  up  when  the 
impulse  overcomes  them. 

Well,  I  gave  Japan  two  bits,  and  seeing  my  case 
was  hopeless  he  let  me  go  at  that,  and  when  he  had,  I 
shut  the  door  after  him,  took  off  my  hat  and  stepped 
out  into  the  sunshine  on  my  little  porch  and  let  it  beat 
on  my  bare  head — the  sun  I  mean — and  stood  with 
my  elbows  on  the  railing,  looking  down  at  the  friendly, 
smiling  city. 

What  a  place !  Everybody  so  snappy-looking.  Far 
more  so  on  an  average  than  New  York,  for  a  fact. 
And  everybody  gay  and  in  no  hurry,  yet  just  hurry 
enough  to  seem  pleasantly  occupied.  Jazz  ?  The  very 
air  had  jazz  in  it !  Even  the  trolley-car  drivers  jazzed 
their  gongs  as  they  slid  by  on  Hollywood  Boulevard, 
and  the  autos  honked  to  syncopation.  Three  phono- 
graphs was  pouring  the  same  jazz  number  out  upon 
the  blue  air,  from  different  rooms  near  by,  but  each 
with  a  different  start,  and  the  one  nearest  to  me  was 
half  a  chorus  ahead  of  the  other  two.  I  may  remark 
in  passing  that  from  that  day  to  this  I  don't  believe 
I  have  been  out  of  earshot  of  some  new  record  at  any 
hour  of  the  day  or  night,  and  I  have  never  seen  the 


Laughter  Limited  79 

coat  of  arms  of  the  City  of  Hollywood,  but  I  am  willing 
to  bet  it  has  got  a  phonograph  rampant  upon  it. 

Well,  anyways,  I  stood  there  like  a  jazbo  Juliet 
upon  my  sleeping  porch,  enchanted  by  everything  I  saw 
and  heard,  and  wondering  could  it  actually  be  me,  and 
quite  seeing  now  what  Stricky  had  meant  when  he  says 
there  is  no  argument  about  which  shall  it  be — Cali- 
fornia or  Connecticut?  A  person  couldn't  help  but 
make  good  out  here.  Why,  just  to  be  in  such  a  place 
was  inspiring.  I  felt  like  I  belonged,  all  right!  As 
if  I  had  been  waiting  to  get  out  here  ever  since  I  had 
been  born,  and  didn't  know  it  until  now.  I  felt  full 
of  pep  and  like  tearing  things  wide  open  generally. 
Sweet  daddy !  Some  fairyland ! 

The  first  number  on  the  program  was  of  course  to 
get  action  from  Stricky.  So  after  I  had  torn  myself 
away  from  the  balcony  and  put  on  a  new  layer  of 
make-up  with  extra-heavy  beading  on  my  eyes,  and 
using  liquid  face  powder  so  as  to  look  as  professional 
as  possible  and  not  to  be  taken  for  an  amateur  any 
more  than  was  absolutely  necessary,  I  had  still  to 
make  up  my  mind  regarding  the  best,  most  casual,  yet 
most  interesting  way  of  letting  Stricky  know  I  was 
here,  and  where. 

At  first  I  thought  I  would  telephone  him  and  kid 
him  along  by  making  him  guess  who  it  was,  but  then 
decided  that  would  be  old  stuff,  and  besides,  sort  of 
small-town,  and  I  dreaded  to  be  recognized  for  what 
I  was.  Then  I  thought  I  would  drop  into  his  office 
and  get  some  action  direct,  but  dismissed  the  idea  al- 
most at  once  because  it  seemed  too  anxious.  So  in 


80  Laughter  Limited 

the  end  I  wrote  a  formal  little  note  and  said  "Dear 
Strick,  well  I  am  here  at  last  and  will  drop  into  your 
office  sometime  to-morrow  morning  between  ten  and 
ten-thirty." 

I  decided  to  just  send  it  along  and  went  downstairs 
to  do  so  by  messenger.  At  the  desk  I  asked  for  Anita, 
but  she  wasn't  there.  Hadn't  shown  up  at  all.  Well, 
I  thought  that  was  funny,  but  after  all  none  of  my 
affair  unless  she  chose.  So  I  just  says  "Oh,  indeed?" 
and  after  seeing  my  letter  off,  went  out  and  parked 
myself  on  the  front  porch,  assuring  myself  that  I  had 
as  good  a  right  to  as  any  there,  but  not  really  believing 
it.  And  hardly  had  I  sat  before  I  saw  Adele. 

No  one  who  has  ever  seen  mommer  will  be  likely 
to  forget  her,  and  if  only  she  wouldn't  mug  so  she 
could  of  played  mother  parts  to  perfection,  and  only 
think  of  the  salaries  they  command  now  that  mothers 
have  come  into  fashion  on  the  silversheet !  But  Adele 
mugged.  She  even  did  it  when  not  in  front  of  the 
camera;  at  least  when  she  imagined  somebody  was 
looking  at  her  and  saying  what  a  sweet,  motherly  older 
woman  that  is  over  there — so  aristocratic.  Which  they 
frequently  did. 

The  very  minute  I  set  eyes  upon  her  I  thought  the 
same.  Her  gray  hair  was  dressed  just  beautiful — 
smart,  but  not  girlish,  you  know.  She  had  a  proud 
way  with  her  head,  too,  and  simply  sweet  black  clothes. 
Not  dowdy,  but  typical  of  a  refined,  well-brought-up 
mother's  things,  plus  the  inexpensive  jewels  suitable 
for  an  oldish  lady.  She  give  me  a  little  smile,  or  so 
I  imagined,  but  I  sat  off  by  myself  instead  of  follow- 


Laughter  Limited  81 

ing  it  up,  because  I  thought  maybe  she  is  Madame 
Estancia  the  famous  author  of  Still  Weaker,  who  I  see 
in  the  papers  was  out  there  making  her  new  pictures, 
and  I  was  afraid  she  would  think  me  fresh. 

Well,  you  know  how  lonesome  a  gay  place  can  be 
to  one  which  isn't  acquainted  there,  and  all  around  me 
the  folks  was  rubbing  it  in.  Big  cars  would  fly  up 
to  the  door  and  dolls  with  basket  lunches  would  dash 
out  of  the  hotel  and  into  the  cars  and  yell,  "Are  you 
going  to  the  beach?"  but  not  to  me.  And  handsome 
actors  with  patent-leather  hair  and  sports  clothes  de 
luxe  would  bring  their  tennis  rackets  out  and  get  some 
healthy  exercise  nursing  them  in  a  big  piazza  chair, 
and  rock  and  talk  for  a  while  and  look  at  me 
hard  and  go  away.  And  still  I  sat  like  a  lost  sheep, 
beginning  to  feel  I  had  been  there  about  twenty  years. 

Another  favorite  form  of  outdoor  sports  seemed 
to  be  getting  weighed  on  the  outdoor  scales  which  was 
parked  on  one  end  of  the  veranda,  but  this  was  a 
form  of  solitaire,  for  they  would  sneak  up  one  at  a 
time,  slip  a  nickel  or  a  penny,  for  both  seemed  to  work 
equally  good,  into  the  slot,  and  step  on  and  step  off 
quick,  as  if  they  didn't  like  to  be  noticed.  One  boy 
even  put  a  button  in.  A  thin,  mother-of-pearl  button 
of  a  gent's  underwear  type,  and  I  guess  he  hoped  I 
didn't  see  it,  but  wasn't  sure.  He  looked  so  worried 
over  it  that  I  got  up  and  went  indoors,  desperately 
hoping  that  the  dining  room  would  by  now  be  open; 
and  mercifully  it  was.  And  even  more  mercifully,  I 
got  put  at  the  same  table  with  Adele. 

Well,  from  the  beginning  of  our  talk,  over  theAmeri- 


82  Laughter  Limited 

can  plan,  I  could  never  of  dreamed  how  important  our 
knowing  each  other  was  to  be.  Which  is  generally 
the  way  big  things  start. 

"In  the  pictures?"  says  Adele  after  asking  me  for 
butter  as  an  opening. 

"I  hope  to  be,"  says  I. 

"And  what  was  the  name,  dear?"  says  she.  I  told 
her,  and  Adele  threw  her  rings  into  the  air. 

"My  dear!"  she  says,  horrified.  "McFadden  will 
never  do !  You  will  have  to  think  up  something  much 
better.  Not  that  I  blame  you,  because  God  does  not 
give  everybody  a  stage  name  at  birth.  My  own  is  De- 
lane.  Mrs.  Adele  Delane;  and  it's  genuine." 

I  says  how  nice  and  so  forth,  and  then  Adele  fired 
another  shot. 

"Did  you  bring  your  mother  with  you,  dear?"  she 
says. 

"No,"  I  says ;  "I  have  no  mother." 

"I'm  so  sorry,  honey,"  says  she,  real  gently.  "A 
girl's  best  friend  is  her  mother,  especially  in  pictures, 
as  I  used  often  to  say  to  dear  Ruby  Rohmer,  when  I 
was  her  mother." 

"But  aren't  you  that  any  more?"  I  says.  "Did  she 
die?" 

"No;  Ruby  married  a  millionaire  and  retired,"  says 
Adele  complacently.  "It  was  largely  due  to  me,  too. 
That  shows  the  value  of  a  mother !  And  she  naturally 
didn't  need  me  any  longer.  A  mother  may  be  useful, 
dear,  but  what  is  thought  of  mothers-in-law  is  well 
loiown." 

"Oh !"  says  I,  dazed,  and  not  yet  getting  it. 


Laughter  Limited  83 

"Yes,  indeed !"  says  Adele.  "I  know  when  to  stop. 
But  a  girl  does  need  looking  after.  When  I  was  Helen 
Murrell's  mother  she  always  used  to  say  that  she  never 
would  of  succeeded  like  she  did  only  for  me." 

"The  great  Helen  Murrell!"  I  gasped.  "She  your 
daughter,  too?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  until  she  married  that  banker  from 
Pittsburgh,"  says  Adele,  plucking  at  her  salad  with  all 
due  modest  pride.  "I  was  Helen's  mother;  and  before 
that  I  was  Lila  Lavelle's." 

Dumb-bell  that  I  was,  I  just  begun  to  get  it  then. 

"Oh !"  says  I.  "You  mean  you  only  pretended  to  be 
their  mother?" 

"Well,  a  girl  in  this  business  really  has  to  have  one, 
you  see,"  she  says.  "And  I  certainly  have  done  as  well 
by  all  six  of  mine  as  if  they  had  been  my  own.  Lila 
married  pretty  good,  too.  Only  she  fell  in  love,  and 
while  he's  a  handsome  actor,  he's  a  bad  one.  He  give 
her  several  expensive  rings,  but  she'd  never  of  got  that 
plain  gold  one  only  for  him  being  mortally  afraid  of 
me." 

"But  now,"  I  says,  "who  is  your  daughter  at 
present  ?" 

"Oh,  I'm  on  a  vacation,"  says  Adele.  "I  just  natu- 
rally got  to  have  a  rest  from  domesticity  oncet  in  a 
while,  and  I  still  got  some  money  left  from  Ruby's 
wedding  present." 

"Are  you  a  widow?"  I  went  on,  for  the  old  lady 
begun  to  interest  me  deeply,  and  evidently  personal 
questions  was  in  order. 

"A  widow!"  exclaimed  Adele.     "Why,  bless  your 


84  Laughter  Limited 

heart,  honey,  I've  never  been  married!  Mrs.  is  only 
my  professional  name,  as  you  might  say!" 

"Well,  it's  a  funny  business !"  I  says,  real  interested. 

"An  important  one!"  says  she  quickly.  "When  a 
star  gets  to  a  certain  prominence  she  needs  a  back- 
ground, and  a  lot  of  personal  sentimental  publicity  can 
be  got  out  of  home-and-mother  stuff — you  know  that ! 
Why,  even  the  male  beauties  ain't  above  it  when  the 
publicity  department  runs  a  little  short.  But  I  never 
was  one  that  contented  myself  with  being  a  mere  figure- 
head. I  always  looked  after  contracts  and  gave  advice, 
and  the  advice  of  one  who's  been  in  the  theatrical  world 
all  their  life  is  neither  to  be  pitied  or  scorned." 

Well,  I  could  believe  that,  and  I  had  a  feeling  right 
off  the  bat  that  she  was  the  real  thing,  even  if  she  did 
have  the  most  completely  cuckoo  way  of  earning  a 
living  I  had  ever  heard  of.  There  was  something 
about  Adele  made  you  believe  that  her  mothering  was 
done  partially  for  the  sheer  love  of  it.  As  though  she 
was  kind  of  trying  to  make  up  to  herself  for  having 
been  cheated  out  of  kids  of  her  own  by  cruel  fate  or 
something,  and  that  she  was  really  proud  of  those  six 
girls,  and  fond  of  them  too.  Later  on  she  showed  me 
their  pictures  on  her  dresser,  all  with  "To  darling  mom- 
mer"  written  over  their  own  signatures,  and  she  was 
as  wistful  about  them  as  any  genuine  one  could 
of  been. 

But  in  the  meanwhile  we  got  real  friendly  and  confi- 
dential over  our  choice-of,  and  she  told  me  who  was 
who  in  the  American-plan,  beginning  with  the  beautiful 
Madame  Estancia  in  a  far  corner  surrounded  by  young- 


Laughter  Limited  85 

admiring  men,  and  ending  with  some  of  the  old  stand- 
bys  of  the  place,  but  never  mentioning  who  was  the  very 
classiest-looking  male  in  the  dining  room,  which  was 
the  young  man  who  had  paid  for  his  weight  with  the 
button,  but  who  sat  there  eating  in  such  handsome 
clothes,  face,  hair  and  general  manner  that  you  would 
not  of  believed  it  possible,  and  left  one  only  to  the  well- 
known  conclusion  of  how  stingy  the  rich  and  famous 
can  be !  He  certainly  was  handsome,  and  formal,  and 
looking  over  to  our  table  a  great  deal. 

"See  that  little  couple  over  by  the  window?"  says 
Adele  chattily.  "Them  are  the  Gosmers — Lulu  and 
Paul — that  make  the  serials,  you  know.  They  live 
here  in  the  hotel.  Sweet  girl,  and  has  a  great  future ! 
Next  to  them  is  that  man  draws  the  animated  cartoons 
— I  can't  think  of  his  name.  And  beyond  him  the  man 
with  the  monocle?  That's  Lord  Rexford,  the  famous 
English  writer.  Yeh — he's  out  here  with  Silvermount. 
Writing  continuity,  I  think." 

Well,  of  course,  Lord  Rexford  was  a  world-famous 
novelist,  so  at  first  I  thought  Adele  must  be  kidding. 
But  not  at  all,  it  really  was  him.  I  had  yet  to  learn 
that  celebrities  in  Hollywood  is  as  common  as  flies  in 
August,  and  if  a  native  was  to  meet  the  Prince  of 
Wales  on  the  street  they  would  merely  say  "Hello, 
how's  tricks,  Walesy?  Working  in  the  pictures?"  and 
then  before  he  could  answer  they  would  go  on  to  tell 
him  about  the  big  offer  they  had  just  got  from  Muro, 
but  for  only  fifteen  hundred  a  week,  so  they  couldn't 
afford  to  take  it. 

Well,  anyways,  I  swallowed  Lord  Rexford  after  the 


86  Laughter  Limited 

second  gulp,  and  then  had  another  flock  of  the  famous 
called  to  my  attention. 

"See  that  tall  man  going  out  the  doorway?"  says 
Adele.  "That's  John  Austin  Nickolls,  the  great  di- 
rector." 

"Not  the  one  that  directs  Trixie  Trueman !"  I  says. 

"Yes,  dear,  that's  him,"  says  Adele.  "He  has  a 
great  future.  He's  with  Silvermount  and  maybe  you 
will  meet  him.  Trixie  is  married  to  Taylor  Trueman, 
you  know.  He's  a  wonderful  actor  but  they  say  he's  a 
hop  fiend.  But  I  say  one  never  knows,  for  you  can 
hear  anything  in  Hollywood.  You  should  of  seen 
Taylor  playing  the  traps  in  the  orchestra  out  to  Sunset 
Inn  last  night.  You  must  go  there  next  Wednesday. 
Wednesday  is  movie  night  out  there.  And  you  must 
come  to  the  dance  here  to-night.  Put  en  a  pretty  dress, 
dear,  and  I  wil  introduce  you  to  a  lot  of  prominent 
people.  No,  no  pie,  thanks!  I  lost  two  pounds  last 
week,  thank  goodness !  Did  you  lose  any,  dear  ?" 

"I  don't  know !"  I  says,  sort  of  breathless. 

"What!"  shrieked  Adele.  "Don't  you  diet?  Well, 
you  must,  dear!  Watch  your  weight  every  moment, 
and  don't  put  on  a  ounce  if  you  can  help.  When  I  was 
Lila's  mother  I  always  used  to  tell  her  'Now,  Lila,  just 
remember  that  slimness  is  the  first  requirement  for 
blue-sash  parts.' ' 

"But  I  don't  need  to  lose !"  I  says. 

"Well,  you  ought  to  diet  just  the  same,  to  make 
sure !"  says  Adele.  "There  goes  Tiixie  Trueman,  now. 
She's  looking  for  Nickolls,  I  guess.  She  runs  after 
him  like  water  off  a  duck's  back.  They  say  she's  mad 


Laughter  Limited  87 

about  him,  but  I  say  there's  more  evil  to  them  that 
thinks  it!" 

Well,  I  hardly  heard  the  last  of  what  Adele  said, 
because  of  staring  at  Trixie  Trueman,  who  was  out- 
side at  the  desk  talking  to  the  clerk.  For  all  the  hard- 
to-realize  people,  she  was  the  hardest.  To  begin  with 
she  didn't  have  on  a  scrap  of  make-up — not  a  dash  of 
it,  even !  Her  clothes  might  of  belonged  to  any  school 
girl;  good,  but  in  no  ways  loud  or  even  very  snappy. 
Why,  if  I  had  seen  her  on  the  street  I  would  not  only 
of  not  recognized  her  but  would  have  actually  taken 
her  for  a  lady!  Quiet,  refined,  inconspicuous.  That 
was  her  all  over!  And  a  English  accent  I  could  get 
even  from  where  I  was ! 

"She  don't  look  a  bit  professional,"  I  says. 

"No,  but  she  has  class,  and  they  have  just  built  a 
handsome  home  out  in  Beverly  Hills,"  says  Adele. 
"She's  a  wild  woman,  though.  At  least  they  say  sp. 
But  I  always  say  'The  less  said  the  less  you  have  to  take 
back.'  " 

We  got  up  from  the  table  after  that  and  went  out 
into  the  lobby  where  the  after-luncheon  crowd  was 
hanging  around.  Miss  Trueman  had  already  gone 
away,  much  to  my  disappointment,  and  so  had  her  di- 
rector. But  my  aristocratic  button  man  was  still  hang- 
ing around,  and  I  was  just  about  to  ask  Adele  who  was 
that  undoubtedly  great  actor,  when  another  boy  who 
had  been  staring  at  me  for  the  last  half  hour  came  up 
to  us  with  a  great  air  of  welcome. 

"How  are  you,  Mrs.  Delane!"  he  says.  "How's 
tricks?" 


88  Laughter  Limited 

"Oh,  Mr.  Rolf !"  says  Adele.  "They  are  just  fine, 
thanks.  Meet  Miss  McFadden,  Slim.  Mr.  Rolf  is 
publicity  director  with  Muro,"  she  added  for  my 
benefit  as  I  murmured  the  conventional  "pleased-to- 
meetcher." 

"Doing  anything  this  afternoon?"  Mr.  Rolf  inquired. 
"Won't  you  both  come  for  a  little  ride  ?  I  got  the  old 
boat  outside." 

"Miss  McFadden  is  just  arrived  out  here,  and  she'd 
love  to  go,  I'm  sure!"  replied  Adele  for  me,  her  mother 
mind  working  automatically.  "I  believe  I'll  just  go  up 
to  my  room  and  have  a  quiet  afternoon  with  my  news- 
paper. I'm  real  interested  in  this  Beverly  murder, 
aren't  you?  And  there's  a  lovely  new  case  of  a  girl 
being  missing,  and  that  big  hold-up  on  the  Valley  Road, 
where  three  was  killed.  So  I  think  I'll  just  spend  a 
restful  hour  reading.  But  you  go  along  with  Slim, 
Bonnie  dear!  He  lives  right  here  in  the  house  and 
he's  a  real  nice  boy !" 

Well,  not  being  accustomed  to  mothers  and  their 
methods,  I  was  more  or  less  knocked  cold  by  this,  but 
submitted  to  be  led  away  by  Mr.  Rolf  to  where  his  old 
boat — a  miserable  twin-six  Colby-Droit  of  that  year's 
vintage,  with  only  a  hundred  and  forty-two  inch  wheel- 
base  and  solid  nickel  disk  wheels  on  it — was  moored  to 
the  front  porch.  Sweet  daddy!  The  world  was  cer- 
tainly opening  up  for  me ! 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"  A  DELE  certainly  is  a  great  readef !"  says  Mr.  Rolf 
•*  *-as  he  helped  me  into  the  front  seat.  He  took  the 
wheel  and  in  this  chariot  of  fire  we  slid  smoothly 
out  into  Hollywood  Boulevard.  "A  very  cultured 
woman." 

"Yes,"  says  I,  too  dumb  with  all  that  was  happening 
to  me  to  have  any  snappy  small-talk.  Staying  in  the 
same  hotel  as  English  titles,  great  directors,  in  the 
middle  of  a  country  like  a  stage  set,  and  being  at  once 
invited  out  by  a  publicity  man  in  his  own  super  twin- 
six  was  pretty  nearly  more  than  I  could  endure  with 
grace. 

"She's  an  old  peach  too!"  Rolf  went  on.  "The  salt 
of  the  earth,  for  all  her  affectations.  Everybody  who 
knows  Adele  loves  her." 

"I  think  she  is  wonderful!"  I  says.  "And  so  is  this 
heavenly  town,  and  everybody  is  so  kind  to  me.  I  feel 
as  if  I'd  just  been  elected." 

"I  hope  it  keeps  that  way  for  you,  girlie!"  says  Rolf. 
"How  did  you  happen  to  come  out?" 

I  told  him  then,  as  we  slid  along  past  beautiful 
houses,  with  the  dream  hills  looming  behind  them, 
and  the  sky  as  crystal  blue  and  cloudless  as  a  great 
bubble  above  all.  I  told  him  about  Stricky  and  the  con- 
tract. Only  I  didn't  say  I  had  not  actually  got  the 
papers  yet. 


90  Laughter  Limited 

"I  know  Stricky,"  he  says  when  I  was  through.  "Al- 
though I  haven't  seen  him  for  some  time — that's  where 
Wallace  Reid  lives,  over  there — and  I  am  glad  you 
have  come  out  with  a  contract.  Work  is  hard  to  get 
right  now.  Things  are  pretty  slow,  or  I  wouldn't  be 
having  an  afternoon  off.  And  so  many  girls  land  in 
this  burg  with  only  a  few  dollars  and  not  a  friend  in 
the  world.  It's  pathetic  to  see  them  storming  the  of- 
fices. God  knows  how  they  exist.  It  fairly  makes  me 
sick,  sometimes.  That's  Bill  Hart's  house  up  on  that 
hill." 

Well,  I  thought  it  sure  was  lucky  about  Stricky,  and 
then  forgot  it,  because  we  were  traveling  through  such 
a  strange  and  lovely  open  country  by  now,  with  straight 
endless  avenues  of  tall  eucalyptus  trees  marking  off  a 
broad  valley  like  a  chess-board,  with  oil  wells  for  chess- 
men springing  up  all  over,  the  whole  framed  in  by 
great,  rolling,  treeless  mountains.  It  seemed  so  funny 
to  see  the  oil  wells  right  in  between  the  best  residence 
districts. 

"That's  nothing  out  here!"  says  Mr.  Rolf  when  I 
remarked  it.  "People  have  often  grown  to  be  million- 
aires right  out  of  their  back  yard.  Just  pull  up  a  couple 
of  orange  trees,  and  zowie !  No  more  work  for  father. 
And  the  devil  of  it  is,  you  can't  tell  where  they  will 
find  it  next.  See  that  place  with  the  tan-bark  ring? 
That's  where  Will  Rogers  lives." 

We  were  in  Beverly  Hills  now,  a  suburb  of  Los 
Angeles,  and  dashing  along  toward  the  Pacific.  I  felt 
actually  bewildered,  but  happy  the  way  a  person  is  in 
a  dream.  The  air  blowing  in  my  face  was  sweet  and 


Laughter  Limited  91 

dry  and  clear,  but  with  strong  pungent  scents  in  it  of 
crude  oil  and  burning  eucalyptus  leaves,  and  cedar- 
wood  fires.  That  country  smells  like  no  other  place  on 
earth,  I  guess.  And  then  the  Pacific  come  into  view 
over  the  cliff  edge  at  a  perfect  little  city — Santa 
Monica.  I  saw  that  ocean  first  over  the  top  of  a  flaming 
hedge  of  red  geraniums  four  feet  tall;  jade  green,  the 
water  was,  honest,  with  bursts  of  foam  flaring  on  the 
tops  of  the  waves  like  vast  ruffles  of  white  lace.  The 
picture  postcards,  even  the  colored  ones,  can't  give  you 
any  idea  of  it.  Sweet  daddy ! 

Well,  you  can  imagine  I  didn't  care  any  more  for 
this  trip  than  I  did  for  my  right  arm!  To  begin  with, 
the  gayest  motor  ride  I  had  ever  had  before  was  once 
when  Bert  Green  took  me  up  to  Cedar  Lodge  back  of 
Stonybrook,  in  his  flivver,  and  we  each  had  a  glass  of 
real  beer  up  there  on  the  sly.  And  here  a  snappy  if 
rather  fat  young  man  was  whirling  me  around  through 
paradise  in  a  nickel-plate  gunboat  the  size  of  a  whale. 

Pretty  soon  my  escort  parked  his  boat  on  a  sidehill 
sloping  to  the  beach,  among  about  five  or  six  hun- 
dred others,  and  we  got  out  and  walked  down  to  the 
beach,  which  was  so  cluttered  up  with  enormous  gayly 
striped  canvas  umbrellas  that  at  first  I  couldn't  really 
see  the  contents  of  said  beach. 

Of  course  I  am  used  to  it  now,  but  at  first  I  was 
actually  ashamed  to  look,  because  them  bathing  girls 
which  you  see  in  the  movies  is  conservative  beside  the 
ones  you  actually  see  at  a  California  beach.  And  not 
at  the  time  having  any  theories  about  art  in  the  ab- 
straction, or  the  classic  beauty  of  the  human  form,  but 


92  Laughter  Limited 

only  a  strong  New  England  prejudice  in  favor  of 
giving  the  garment  industry  fair  play,  the  first  sight 
of  the  Santa  Monica  beach  in  full  undress  parade  was 
pretty  near  a  haymaker  to  me. 

Apparently  the  fact  of  people  going  in  swimming  so 
very  much  in  public  in  a  personal  sense  meant  nothing 
in  Mr.  Rolf's  life,  however,  and  his  calm  indifference, 
which  was  shown  by  the  way  he  give  a  "Hello,  Al," 
or  "How's  tricks,  Nellie?"  here  and  there  to  the  bath- 
ers, proved  to  me  that  this  wasn't  one  of  them  Sights 
of  Paris  like  I  had  at  first  supposed,  but  just  the  usual 
thing.  So  I  passed  no  remarks  about  it,  and  indeed  I 
would  of  been  embarrassed  to  in  any  case,  but  just  stood 
beside  him  with  burning  cheeks  and  little  dreaming  how 
matter-of-course  all  this  would  seem  some  day  when  I 
had  learned  to  swim  and  let  swim. 

Across  the  sands  a  short  powerful-looking  middle- 
aged  man  in  a  striped  suit  caught  sight  of  us.  and  come 
over  to  where  we  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  walk. 

"Howdy,  Slim !"  says  this  bird,  looking  at  me  with 
considerable  interest. 

He  had  an  awful  hard  face  and  a  blond  beard,  and 
somehow  made  me  at  once  think  of  one  of  those  an- 
cient satyrs.  But  he  was  friends  with  Slim  Rolf,  that 
was  plain,  when  we  was  introduced. 

"This  is  Jack  Blum,  the  great  playwright,  Miss  Mc- 
Fadden,"  says  Rolf. 

"I'd  like  to  write  plays  for  you,  dearie!"  says  Mr. 
Blum.  "I'll  give  you  a  part  just  before  dinner  to-night 
anyhow,  if  you'll  make  this  low-life  bring  you  around 
to  my  bungalow.  I  got  a  case  of  the  real  stuff  this 


Laughter  Limited  93 

morning,  and  I'll  cast  you  two  to  try  it.  How  about 
it,  Slim?  Drop  around  around  six?" 

"You  said  it!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Rolf.  "We'll  be  with 
you!" 

Well,  Mr.  Blum  had  two  chickens  with  him.  A  thin 
Leghorn  of  a  blonde,  and  a  cute  little  barred  rock.  At 
least  she  was  dark,  and  what  little  bathing  suit  she  had 
was  barred.  And  if  ever  I  saw  girls  cuckoo  over  a 
man  they  were  it  over  that  man.  And  he  the  homeliest 
ever,  with  his  square  shoulders  and  great  trailing  blond 
beard ! 

"Jackie  shakes  a  wicked  drink !"  says  the  Leghorn. 
"And  we'll  need  it  after  our  swim.  See  you  later, 
dear!" 

And  then  the  three  of  them  dashed  off  for  the  water, 
and  Mr.  Slim  Rolf  and  me  went  over  to  a  booth,  and 
he  bought  us  a  couple  of  hamburger  specials,  all  pickles 
and  tomatoes  and  hot  hamburger,  and  we  ate  them  right 
there  along  with  a  big  bunch  which  was  doing  the  same 
and  I  commenced  to  feel  chatty  and  at  ease,  it  was  all 
so  grand  and  intimate  and  informal  and  easy  to  break 
into.  My  heart  was  fairly  bursting  with  gratitude  to 
Stricky  for  getting  me  out  there  after  all  my  wasted 
years  at  home.  I  was  afraid  I  would  just  about  fall 
upon  his  neck  in  his  office  to-morrow  morning,  and  the 
thought  of  that  contract  I  would  be  signing  at  not  less 
than  seventy- five  a  week  or  probably  a  hundred,  or  even 
very  likely  a  hundred  and  fifty,  didn't  dampen  my 
spirits  any,  either. 

Then  first  thing  I  knew  Mr.  Blum  and  his  poultry 
was  dressed  beyond  words  and  jumping  into  a  huge 


94  Laughter  Limited 

yellow  car  that  was  parked  a  little  way  from  ours,  yell- 
ing for  us  to  come  ahead.  So  we  did,  I  at  the  crest  of 
the  wave,  so  to  speak,  and  with  my  only  regret  the  fact 
that  I  had  caught  sight  of  my  distinguished  button 
actor  on  the  beach.  "But  what  of  it?"  I  thought.  "I 
will  undoubtedly  meet  him  when  I  get  into  the  most 
exclusive  circles." 

Then  Mr.  Blum  dashed  off  ahead,  and  we  followed, 
the  strangely  scented  wind  pressing  upon  my  face  once 
more. 

"Does  everybody  come  down  there  to  bathe?"  I 
asked  Mr.  Rolf. 

"Sure — all  but  the  very  big  eggs,"  he  says.  "A  lot 
of  them  have  their  own  swimming  pools  at  their  homes, 
and  stick  around  there  and  invite  their  friends." 

"Oh !"  says  I,  a  little  disappointed  to  think  I  would 
not  be  likely  to  see  them  on  the  beach,  but  thinking, 
"Well,  some  day  I  might  be  at  such  a  home,  who 
knows  ?" 

Mr.  Blum  had  one  of  the  bungalows  I  had  admired, 
on  a  street  right  behind  the  hotel.  A  street  fairly 
smothered  in  pepper  trees,  which  trees  look  like  they 
are  made  out  of  light-green  feathers  and  coral  beads. 
Inside  the  cottage  were  Indian  rugs  and  baskets,  big 
broad  sofas,  a  phonograph  going  full  blast,  a  huge 
open  fireplace  full  of  eucalyptus  leaves,  and  a  big  center 
table  full  of  liquor,  glasses,  ice  and  siphons.  All 
around  it  were  people,  gorgeous  people.  I  wouldn't 
of  believed  there  was  so  many  pretty  girls  in  the 
world  as  they  was  in  that  one  room,  and  none  of  them 
famous,  either.  The  men  was  wonderful-looking  too. 


Laughter  Limited  95 

It  was  Stricky  repeated  twenty  times.  And  above  all 
was  the  fierce  blond  viking  ruling  the  roost,  with  his 
feet  planted  far  apart  like  two  solid  columns,  mixing 
endless  drinks  and  roaring  jokes  at  the  mob. 

Somebody  handed  me  a  glass,  a  frosted  glass  like  a 
chalice  on  a  long  stem,  and  filled  with  something  pink 
and  frothy,  with  a  sprig  of  mint  on  the  top  of  it.  A 
more  innocent-looking  portion  of  liquid  I  never  set 
eyes  on,  but  when  I  drank  it  down  it  made  me  blink, 
and  only  then  I  realized  that  I  had  taken  a  cocktail; 
because  of  course  the  only  cocktails  I  had  ever  seen 
before  was  served  in  coffee  cups  up  at  that  Cedar  Inn 
I  was  telling  you  about.  But  it  done  me  a  world  of 
good.  I  got  chummy  and  talkative  right  away  and 
even  called  the  Leghorn,  dear.  Then  the  Jap  servant 
brought  another  load  of  these  around,  and  I  would 
of  taken  an  encore  only  Mr.  Rolf  grabbed  me  by  the 
arm. 

"Do  you  know  those  are  absinth?"  he  says.  "Come 
on,  we'd  better  be  going." 

Well,  that  second  drink  was,  certainly,  as  he  said, 
absent  as  far  as  I  was  concerned,  for  I  didn't  get  it. 
But  it  was  late  by  then  and  I  was  willing  to  go  back  to 
the  hotel,  especially  as  it  seemed  the  whole  crowd  was 
coming  there  for  dinner  and  the  dance.  So  we  slipped 
out,  Slim  and  I  did — because  we  was  by  then  Slim  and 
Bonnie  to  each  other — and  I  fairly  danced  up  the  stairs 
to  my  room  and  put  in  a  careful  hour's  work  framing 
myself  in  a  black  satin  evening  gown  which  I  had 
copied  off  that  French  fellow,  Callot  Sceurs,  who  has 
so  many  extreme  models  in  the  fashion  papers.  I  did 


96  Laughter  Limited 

up  my  yellow  curls  like  Pickford's,  beaded  my  eyes 
real  black,  and  went  down  feling  like  the  Queen  of 
Sheba  with  a  mortgage  on  the  world. 

Adele  was  already  at  our  table  when  I  come  in,  and 
she  was  dressed  in  a  simple  little  effect  of  gray  satin 
and  actually  a  cameo  brooch  and  a  taffeta  bag  full  of 
a  sweater  she  was  knitting.  Not  that  I  ever  from  that 
day  to  this  seen  her  knit  so  much  as  one  single  stitch, 
because  it  was  really  only  a  prop,  but  a  mighty  effective 
one. 

"Did  you  have  a  nice  time,  honey?"  says  Adele  as  I 
took  my  place.  "My,  but  you  look  wonderful!  Did 
you  make  that  dress  yourself  ?  Never !  I  don't  believe 
it!  Well,  it  looks  like  there  will  be  a  big  attendance 
here  to-night!" 

And  she  said  it.  The  big  low-ceilinged  room,  bob- 
bing with  gay  baskets  of  flowers  on  every  table,  was 
crowded  to  the  limit.  Some  of  the  tables  had  been  set 
together,  and  big  parties  was  gathered  around  them, 
many  in  evening  clothes.  The  equal  of  that  crowd  for 
looks  most  certainly  don't  exist  any  other  place  in  the 
world.  I  fell  in  love  with  at  least  six  hams  that  eve- 
ning. One  right  after  another,  including  my  distin- 
guished-looking foreigner,  who  I  finally  met,  and  whose 
name  turned  out  to  be  Axel  Something,  I  couldn't  say 
what,  but  who  danced  in  English  even  if  he  couldn't 
talk  much  in  it. 

The  lobby  had  been  cleared  and  a  jazz  orchestra  was 
telling  the  world  from  one  corner  of  it.  And  when 
Adele  mothered  me  out  of  the  dining  room  I  come  like 
a  brave  soldier,  all  prepared  for  the  worst,  meaning 


Laughter  Limited  97 

that  I  would  not  know  how  to  dance  modern  enough 
for  this  crowd.  But  my  fears  was  in  vain,  because 
when  Adele  had  caught  me  a  partner  and  introduced 
me  by  saying,  "Oh,  you  must  know  my  daughter — 
that  is,  Miss  McFadden,  Ed,  dear !"  and  I  and  Ed  had 
started  dancing,  I  discovered  that  camel-walking  was 
forbidden,  and  so  was  cheek-to-cheek  stuff,  and  that  the 
dance  was  due  to  stop  at  11.30  prompt!  Say,  if  they 
ever  tried  to  pull  that  stuff  at  any  dance  back  home  in 
Stonybrook,  there  would  of  been  a  riot !  But  the  wild 
movie  crowd  never  murmured,  and  I  naturally  got  a 
impression  of  great  purity  from  all  this. 

Well,  anyways,  it  was  a  pretty  good  night  at  that, 
with  the  crowd  shifting  from  hour  to  hour,  and  nearly 
everybody  that  was  ever  on  the  screen  showing  for  a 
little  while,  and  going  on  to  some  other  place.  After 
11.30  it  seemed  perfectly  natural  to  me  to  be  sitting  in 
the  room  of  some  perfect  stranger,  with  a  big  crowd  all 
whooping  and  singing,  having  drinks,  and  putting  on  a 
new  number  and  dancing  until  nearly  two  o'clock,  then 
the  six  of  us  going  across  the  boulevard  for  a  hot  egg 
sandwich  at  a  place  called  John's.  And  after  that  I 
crawled  up  to  my  room  too  excited  to  know  I  was  tired, 
and  feeling  I  was  on  the  big  time  for  fair ! 

But  I  wasn't  to  sleep,  not  yet.  The  lightly  built 
walls  of  the  hotel  let  in  all  kinds  of  mysterious  sounds. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  place  never  would  grow  really  quiet. 
And  then,  when  the  piano  below  me  had  at  last  left  off, 
and  the  drunks  which  had  been  kidding  each  other  on 
the  corner  for  half  an  hour  at  length  decided  to  call  it 
a  night  and  go  home,  and  I  was  just  drowsing  off 


98  Laughter  Limited 

amidst  a  wild,  half -pleasant,  half -terrify  ing  whirl  of 
thought  in  which  Jack  Blum  and  the  Leghorn,  Slim 
Rolf  and  striped  umbrellas,  big  automobiles,  rushing 
trains  and  crashing  jade-green  breakers  was  all  mixed 
up,  I  heard  someone  tapping  softly  at  my  door. 

Sweet  daddy,  how  my  heart  beat !  I  was  wide  awake 
in  a  second,  sitting  up  in  bed  and  listening  with  every 
nerve.  The  tap  come  again,  and  I  managed  to  choke 
out  a  hoarse  whisper. 

"Who's  there?"  I  says. 

"It's  me!"  says  a  female  voice.  "I  just  wanted  to 
be  sure  you  was  all  right,  dear!" 

It  was  Adele.  I  hopped  out  of  bed  and  opened  the 
door  for  her,  and  she  stepped  softly  inside,  all  kid 
curlers  and  flannel  wrapper. 

"Of  course  I  ain't  your  mother,  honey,"  she  says  in 
a  whisper,  "but  I  am  interested,  just  the  same.  I 
wanted  to  know  you  had  come  in." 

"Say,  you  are  a  darling  to!"  I  says,  very  touched 
and  comforted. 

"Well,  good  night  then!"  says  Adele.  "And  if  you 
don't  mind  me  speaking  of  it,  don't  take  a  drink,  honey. 
Lay  off  that  stuff,  beginning  right  now.  Don't  touch 
it !  This  is  a  mighty  rough  town,  dear,  or  so  they  say." 

"I  give  my  word  of  honor!"  I  says  earnestly. 
"You  are  dead  right !" 

"And  if  you  ever  need  me  just  come  right  to  me, 
dear,"  says  Adele.  "I  may  be  a  mother  by  profession, 
but  I  like  my  work.  It  won't  cost  you  anything  and  I 
have  taken  a  fancy  to  you,  honey !" 


Laughter  Limited  99 

Well,  we  kissed  on  that,  and  I  went  back  to  bed  with 
the  one  thing  I  needed — a  warm  secure  feeling  that  I 
had  a  friend  behind  me — and  slept  like  a  log. 

Next  morning  I  was  up  long  before  I  needed  to  be, 
and  spent  a  long  while  getting  dressed.  The  Silver- 
mount  concern  was,  of  course,  the  biggest  one  on  the 
Coast,  and  going  there  to  sign  a  contract  was  no  light 
matter.  Also  I  had  a  double  reason  for  wanting  to 
look  good — business,  and  Stricky,  for  I  will  say  I  was 
pretty  well  stuck  on  him,  and  I  was  anxious  he  should 
find  me  as  good-looking  as  he  remembered  me,  if  not 
better.  I  changed  my  mind  about  what  hat  would  I 
wear  three  times,  and  come  back  to  the  mirror  three 
times  for  a  last  dash  of  powder.  But  finally  I  was 
all  set  and  on  my  way. 

The  sun  was  shining  again,  in  that  bright,  permanent 
fashion  it  has  out  there,  and  I  felt  full  of  it  as  I 
stepped  into  the  boulevard,  all  pepped  and  prettied  up. 

While  I  walked  down  towards  the  Silvermount  lot 
I  began  turning  over  in  my  mind  whether  or  not  I 
ought  to  sign  up  for  as  little  as  a  hundred?  You  see 
that  had  been  Stricky' s  own  figure  and  it  hadn't  oc- 
curred to  me  back  East  that  I  had  maybe  ought  to  ask 
for  more.  But  since  arriving  in  Hollywood  I  had  al- 
ready heard  so  much  about  big  salaries  that  I  begun 
to  wonder  would  the  Silvermount  people  think  less  of 
me  if  I  didn't  show  that  I  knew  what  salaries  run  to? 
Why,  even  the  Leghorn  was  drawing  down  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  per,  on  her  own  confession!  I  decided, 
however,  that  in  the  end  it  would  be  better  to  start 


100  Laughter  Limited 

modest  and  kind  of  feel  things  out  a  little  before  ask- 
ing too  big  a  price. 

And  by  this  time  I  was  at  the  palatial  front  of  the 
Silvermount  Studios,  which  occupied  two  entire  blocks, 
and  was  built  in  reproduction  of  our  New  England 
Early  cow-barn  architecture. 

Parked  in  front  of  the  studio  under  the  spreading 
palmetto  trees  was  hundreds  of  cars,  and  standing 
around  in  front  of  these  was  about  a  hundred  snappily 
dressed  people,  all  with  make-up  on.  A  couple  of 
cameramen  climbed  into  a  big  bus  and  drove  off  amid 
shoutings  and  cameras  just  as  I  come  up,  and  then  a 
man  in  riding  breeches  and  a  flannel  shirt  and  no  tie, 
but  a  wrist  watch,  came  dashing  out  of  a  little  side 
door  and  everybody  made  way  for  him,  and  then  I 
saw  Axel  the  Magnificent,  my  button  hero  and  distin- 
guished partner  of  the  night  before. 

Well,  he  had  on  a  high  silk  hat,  and  a  flower  in  his 
buttonhole,  and  believe  me,  he  might  of  been  John 
Drew's  younger  brother,  he  was  so  full  of  dog !  I  nat- 
urally thought,  "Well,  I  was  always  sure  he  was  a  big 
man  and  I  suppose  this  is  his  own  company  and  it's  a 
shame  to  keep  him  standing  around  waiting  that  way," 
when  all  at  once  the  rough-looking  bird  in  the  corduroy 
breeches  and  old  flannel  shirt,  which  I  now,  to  my 
amazement,  recognized  through  his  day's  growth  of 
beard  to  be  Nickolls,  stood  up  on  the  seat  of  a  car  and 
called  out  in  a  big  voice. 

"Hey !  Atmosphere  for  location  on  the  Nickolls  pic- 
ture! Hey.  you  folks — hustle  now!  Shove  'em  into 
the  cars  down  there,  Billy!  Hurry  now!  What  the 


Laughter  Limited  101 

hell's  the  matter,  you  big  Swede !  Tell  that  Swede  to 
come  along  if  he's  going!" 

And  by  the  Swede  he  meant  Axel  the  Magnificent! 
I  nearly  died.  Axel  saw  me,  and  had  stopped  to  bow, 
and  this  was  what  got  him  his  bawling  out.  The  poor 
kid  blushed  a  deep  red  as  he  was  hustled  off  like  so 
much  cattle,  but  I  guess  he  didn't  dare  protest.  An 
extra !  Axel  was  an  extra !  Sweet  daddy ! 

With  a  very  Thank-heaven-I-am-not-as-they  feeling, 
I  walked  on  to  the  main  office,  ashamed  for  Axel's 
mortification,  and  also  not  a  little  ashamed  for  Silver- 
mount's  biggest  director.  As  I  mounted  the  steps  I 
decided  I  would  speak  to  Stricky  about  what  I  had 
seen.  I  felt  he  really  ought  to  know. 

Inside  the  luxurious  reception  room  was  a  couple  of 
mourner's  benches,  at  present  unoccupied,  and  in  one 
wall  a  window  like  a  box  office,  with  bars  in  it  besides, 
to  keep  the  wild  hams  out,  and  also  a  door  leading  into 
the  Great  Beyond,  which  had  a  sign,  Keep  Out — This 
Means  You,  in  the  middle.  Behind  the  cage  sat  a 
harassed-looking  young  lady  playing  a  little  jazz  on  a 
typewriter  to  pass  the  time  away.  I  pulled  out  a  card 
and  shoved  it  through. 

"For  who?"  she  says,  picking  it  up  with  one  hand, 
but  continuing  to  jazz  with  the  other. 

"I  want  to  see  the  casting  director,  Mr.  Gregory 
Strickland,  please !"  I  says. 

"Huh!  Lemme  see — I  don't  think  he  is  here  any 
more,"  says  she. 

"But  he  must  be.    He's  expecting  me!"  I  cried. 

"Well,  I  don't  think  he's  here  any  more !"  she  per- 


102  Laughter  Limited 

sisted.  Then  she  give  a  yell  at  some  person  that  I 
couldn't  see.  "Say,  Mabel!"  she  says.  "Strickland 
ain't  here  any  more,  is  he?" 

"Naw !"  said  Mabel's  voice.  "He  ain't  been  here  for 
the  last  six  months." 

"Know  where  he's  workin'?"  says  the  first  young 
lady,  still  to  her  friend. 

"I  don't  think  he  is  working!"  says  Mabel.  "He  got 
fired  from  here  and  I  think  he  went  to  New  York." 

"He's  gone  to  New  York,"  the  girl  in  the  window 
explained  to  me  as  though  I  had  been  deaf.  "He  used 
to  be  Mr.  Nickoll's  assistant,  but  he's  not  here  now." 

"But  are  you  sure  you  got  the  right  man  ?"  I  gasped. 
"I  mean  Mr.  Strickland,  the  casting  director !" 

"Mr.  Johnson,"  says  the  girl,  giving  my  ignorance  a 
rancid  look,  "has  been  our  casting  director  for  the  last 
five  years." 

"Thank  you !"  I  says,  sort  of  weak  and  faint.  Just 
then  Mabel's  voice  broke  in  again. 

"I  think  Mr.  Strickland  is  in  town,"  she  volunteered. 
"I  think  I  heard  someone  say  they  seen  him,  but  I 
don't  know  where." 

"Thanks  a  lot,"  I  says  again,  weaker  and  weaker. 
And  then,  hardly  knowing  where  I  was  going  or  why, 
I  turned  and  walked  back  out  into  the  street. 


CHAPTER  IX 

/~T"VHE  last  thing  anybody  likes  to  admit  is  that  they 
-"•  are  broke.  And  so  when  after  my  big  disap- 
pointment about  my  imaginary  Silvermount  contract 
and  Greg  Strickland's  equally  imaginary  casting-di- 
rectorship, I  trickled  back  to  the  hotel  and  told  Adele, 
I  made  no  mention  of  how  little  money  I  had  left. 

"Well,  it's  a  bad  run  of  luck,  Bonnie  dear!"  says 
Adele  when  I  had  spilled  my  sorrows.  "But  cheer  up, 
you  may  fall  into  something  better.  That's  the  beauty 
of  pictures;  you  never  can  tell  but  that  you  will  land 
something  really  big  next  minute.  Take  my  advice, 
honey,  and  don't  accept  anything  too  small  unless  you 
go  broke.  A  bit  is  all  right,  but  once  an  extra  always 
an  extra,  with  very  rare  exceptions." 

"A  bit?"  I  says. 

"Even  a  small  bit,"  Adele  explained.  "A  part  where 
you  are  a  maid  and  hand  a  coat,  or  even  are  a  dinner 
guest  at  a  table  of  twelve,  say.  That  gives  the  pro- 
ducer a  chance  to  get  a  good  look  at  you." 

"I  see!"  says  I.  "But  what's  so  wrong  with  play- 
ing atmosphere  ?" 

"I  don't  know  why,"  says  Adele.  "But  everything 
is  wrong  with  it.  Socially  and  every  other  way.  A 
big  lot  of  clowns  gets  stuck  there,  for  one  thing." 

Well,  I  could  see  her  point  and  acted  accordingly. 

103 


104  Laughter  Limited 

With  the  result  that  when  I  paid  my  bill  at  the  end  of 
a  week,  during  which  I  had  got  acquainted  with  the 
outside  office  of  every  casting  director  in  the  county, 
and  had  written  my  signature  in  the  books  of  every 
agency,  I  had  left  the  price  of  about  ten  days'  board 
and  no  further.  Beyond  was  an  aching  void,  as  one 
might  say.  And  yet  it  was  awful  hard  for  me  to  rea- 
lize poverty  was  actually  so  close.  There  was  some- 
thing about  living  in  that  atmosphere  of  hothouse  suc- 
cess which  sapped  a  person's  good  sense  away.  Every- 
body I  met  talked  so  big  that  honest,  I  felt,  for  no 
genuine  reason  on  earth,  that  if  I  took  a  big  attitude 
and  demanded  topside  things,  why  I  would  succeed  in 
wringing  them  out  of  life. 

Also  the  fact  of  there  always  being  something  doing 
evenings  kept  up  the  illusion  of  success;  immediate, 
past  or  imminent.  I  was  generally  going  to  the  Green 
Mill  or  the  Cinderella  with  Slim.  And  even  sitting 
around  somebody's  suite  at  the  hotel,  putting  number 
after  number  on  the  phonograph,  or  taking  turns  sing- 
ing Absent  to  a  mechanical  piano  with  expression, 
would  wipe  out  the  memory  of  plodding  from  studio 
to  studio  all  through  the  day. 

Well,  this  Saturday  afternoon  that  I  am  telling  about, 
I  come  in  at  the  especially  low  hour  of  five  o'clock,  the 
hour  which  the  cocktail  has  made  famous,  but  which 
I  refused  to  recognize  in  that  connection  no  matter 
how  dog-tired  I  was.  And  as  I  sat  on  the  edge  of  my 
bed  and  counted  my  kale  I  come  sharp  up  against  the 
fact  that  said  bed  would  soon  be  taken  from  under  me 
if  I  didn't  horn  in  on  a  job  before  next  pay  day. 


Laughter  Limited  105 

"Look  here,  B.  McFadden,  you  poor  dumb-bell,"  I 
says  to  myself,  "this  can't  go  on.  You  better  move 
some  place  cheaper  before  the  management  offers  to  as- 
sist you  in  the  matter.  You  can  still  get  your  mail  here, 
so  no  address  value  will  be  lost  anyways.  And  even 
forty-five  bucks  will  go  four  times  further  where  things 
is  a  quarter  as  dear !" 

Well,  I  said  this,  but  I'll  admit  that  for  once  I 
didn't  like  to  hear  myself  talk.  However,  it  was  the 
truth  that  things  in  pictures  was  awful  slow  just  then, 
and  actually  thousands  of  just  as  pretty,  far  more  ex- 
perienced girls  than  me  was  out  of  work  at  that  very 
minute. 

Having  at  last  come  to  my  senses  I  also  came  to  my 
feet,  meaning  to  go  languidly  down  and  drawl  out  to 
the  old  sport  at  the  desk  that  I  was  tired  of  hotel  life 
and  had  decided  to  find  a  cozy  little  place  of  my  own. 
But  before  I  had  got  any  further  than  my  feet  there 
come  a  knock  on  my  door,  and  who  of  all  people  would 
it  be  but  Anita  Lauber ! 

I  hadn't  seen  her  since  we  arrived  in  Los  Angeles, 
nor  heard  a  word  from  her.  But  from  the  looks  of 
her  she  hadn't  suffered  much  in  the  meantime.  She 
was  dolled  to  the  limit  in  new  clothes,  very  snappy, 
even  though  her  wrap  was  a  Ford  model,  and  she  was 
close  to  smothered  not  alone  with  talcum  powder  but 
excitement  as  well. 

"Say,  Bonnie !"  she  says,  rushing  right  into  the  mid- 
dle of  her  news  without  even  saying  how  are  you  or 
well  here  I  am,  or  etc.  "Say,  Bonnie,  don't  tell  me  you 
got  a  dinner  date  for  to-night!" 


106  Laughter  Limited 

"I  wish  I  had!"  I  says.  "Does  that  remark  of 
yours  indicate  that  we  are  probably  going  to  eat?" 

"Thank  goodness  you  ain't  dated,"  says  Anita,  "be- 
cause I  wouldn't  have  you  miss  this  chance!" 

"Here!"  I  says.  "Come  in  and  use  up  a  chair. 
Where  have  you  been,  and  what  chance  is  this  that 
you  are  boiling  over?" 

"You  are  not  working,  are  you?"  says  Anita,  throw- 
ing herself  into  the  overstuffed  and  taking  out  a  little 
silver  case.  "No?  I  thought  not,  dear!  You  see  I 
heard  about  your  friend  Strickland  being  out  of  Silver- 
mount,  and  I  knew  the  chances  was  that  you  hadn't 
found  anything  yet" 

"Who  told  you  all  this?"  I  asked  her. 

"My  friend,  Tom  Wells,"  says  she,  "The  boy  I 
met  on  the  train — remember  ?" 

"Yeh !"  I  says.  "Anita,  why  didn't  you  come  here 
to  the  hotel  like  you  said  you  were  going  to  ?" 

"I  did  intend  to,"  she  says,  "but  he  asked  me  to 
lunch.  He's  a  continuity  writer,  a  free  lance  for  Muro. 
And  the  minute  he  told  me  that  I  didn't  hesitate  to 
grab  the  chance  of  knowing  him  better.  Then  after- 
wards he  says  why  don't  I  go  to  his  mother's  to  board  ? 
So  I'm  there.  I've  been  meaning  to  get  over  to  see 
you  before  this,  honest  I  have.  Then  to-day  the  big 
chance  come  up  and  I  thought  I'd  let  you  in  on  it." 

"Well — shoot  it,"  I  says,  "before  you  have  me  a 
nervous  wreck." 

"Tom  knows  practically  everybody  in  pictures,"  says 
Anita  enthusiastically.  "And  he's  been  promising  all 
along  that  he  would  get  me  in.  Well,  he  was  at  Tom 


Laughter  Limited  107 

Muro's  office  this  morning  about  a  script,  and  Muro 
says  he's  giving  a  party  at  his  house  out  at  the  beach 
to-night  and  why  not  come  to  dinner  and  bring  a  couple 
of  girls?  And  I  like  you,  dearie,  so  I  thought  of  you 
first  off." 

Well,  that  was  quite  some  slice  of  news. 

"Say  listen !"  I  says.  "Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that 
the  great  T.  H.  Muro  himself  is  asking  two  wrens 
he  has  never  seen  out  to  his  house  to  dinner?  Sweet 
daddy!" 

"Why,  they  often  do!"  says  Anita.  "That's  the 
way  they  get  hold  of  a  lot  of  new  faces,  and  many  a 
fat  contract  has  come  out  of  no  more  than  that." 

"But  say,  listen,  Anita,"  I  says.  "Muro  is  a  big 
man,  and  neither  I  nor  you  are  fools.  When  a  man 
of  his  class  gives  a  party  where  he  invites  unknown 
chickens,  either  he  seriously  does  it  to  look  'em  over, 
which  he  could  do  better  in  his  office,  or  else  it  is 
going  to  be  a  stormy  evening  at  the  beach  to-night, 
in  which  case  I  believe  I  will  stay  as  much  at  home 
as  a  person  can  in  a  hotel." 

"Well,  Bonnie  McFadden,  of  course  if  you  want 
to  insinuate  that  I  would  go  on  any  rough  party  I 
can't  help  your  evil  mind,"  says  Anita,  getting  to  her 
feet.  "You  don't  understand  how  things  are  done  in 
pictures.  And  if  you  are  going  to  throw  down 
the  chance  of  actually  meeting  Tom  Muro  in  his  own 
house,  all  I  can  say  about  it  is  that  you  got  a  perfect 
right  to  be  a  poor  but  honest  fool !  So  long !" 

"Here,  hold  on,  Anita!"  I  says.  "Don't  go  so  fast. 
Of  course  it  would  be  wonderful  to  meet  Muro,  and 


108  Laughter  Limited 

it's  the  chance  of  a  lifetime,  for  don't  I  know  how 
hard  it  is  to  get  a  bowing  acquaintance  with  even  his 
office  boy!  And  maybe  I  do  him  an  injustice.  After 
all,  he  is  a  topside  person,  and  very  likely  a  good  one." 

"Now  you're  using  sense !"  says  Anita,  still  fingering 
her  little  silver  box  nervously.  "Put  on  your  snap- 
piest evening  dress  and  be  all  set  by  seven.  Tommy 
and  me  will  drop  around  for  you.  So  long,  and  here's 
hoping  we  both  get  a  job  out  of  it!" 

"Sweet  daddy,  wouldn't  that  be  luck !"  I  says,  kissing 
her  good-by.  "Thank  you,  Anita,  dear!" 

When  Anita  was  gone  I  thought,  "Well,  what  a 
mean  crack  it  is  to  believe  the  worst  of  a  person  just 
because  they  are  a  powerful  producer  and  you  happen 
to  be  a  good-looking  girl."  To  which  I  also  added 
the  fact  that  if  any  one  back  home  had  said  to  me 
"A  good  friend  of  mine  over  to  West  Haven  is  giving 
a  bust  and  I  can  bring  anybody  I  want  to,"  why  I 
would  not  of  thought  it  strange  or  even  hesitated  for 
one  minute.  Besides  all  of  which  I  had  just  forty- 
five  dollars  cash  money  and  absolutely  no  prospects, 
and  why  be  so  unjust  to  Mr.  Muro  when  I  didn't  even 
know  him  yet?  And  a  lot  more  self-kidding  like  that 
for  half  an  hour  or  more,  until  I  had  actually  got 
myself  to  a  point  where  I  pretty  nearly  believed  T.  H. 
Muro  was  a  kind,  fatherly  old  boy  who  asked  poor 
friendless  young  motion-picture  aspirins  out  to  the 
house  so  he  and  his  wife  could  pick  out  the  ones  which 
looked  like  they  had  the  most  talent. 


CHAPTER  X 

T  say  I  almost  had  myself  bluffed  to  that  point  of 
•*•  view,  but  not  quite.  Deep  down  in  an  unquench- 
able corner  of  my  heart  a  persistent  voice  kept  telling 
me  that  I  was  taking  a  chance  and  that  I  knew  it.  But 
I  kept  that  voice  within  bounds  by  arguing  that  this 
was  a  modern  day  and  age  and  nobody  could  afford 
to  be  too  big  a  prune.  But  I  didn't  go  down  and  tell 
Adele  about  my  invitation  as  I  ordinarily  would  of, 
and  dressed  alone. 

By  the  time  I  was  dolled,  my  excitement  and  en- 
thusiasm had  grown  up  to  a  pretty  high  pitch.  And 
when  Anita  and  her  friend  was  announced,  and  I 
come  down  through  the  lobby  to  meet  them,  I  wanted 
to  shout  that  I  was  dining  at  the  great  Mr.  Muro's 
and  wondered  if  maybe  the  fact  didn't  just  naturally 
show  on  me,  anyways.  I  would  not  of  been  the  least 
surprised  to  see  somebody  point  at  me  and  say  in  a 
loud  whisper,  "There  goes  one  of  Tom  Muro's  next 
stars;  she's  dining  with  him  to-night.  She  has  a  big 
future,  that  girl  has!" 

Well,  Anita's  sweetie  had  a  red  tie  to  match  his 
hair,  and  also  several  drinks  before  meeting  us.  Going 
out  in  his  car — which  they  all  seemed  to  have  one 
even  if  it  was  only  a  B.  C.  model  of  some  sort — well, 
anyways,  going  out  he  told  us  all  about  what  was 

109 


110  Laughter  Limited 

•wrong  with  pictures  and  what  vices  who  had,  and 
the  real  inside  facts  about  the  crooked  way  this  person 
got  their  contract,  and  anything  else  you  choose.  Be- 
lieve me,  that  boy  could  peddle  the  why! 

But  I  was  hardly  listening  to  him,  because  it  always 
made  me  kind  of  dreamy  driving  out  to  the  beach  at 
nightfall  with  the  lights  in  the  houses  climbing  the 
hills  like  lost  fireflies,  and  that  eternal  perfume  of  oil 
and  burning  cedar  sort  of  intoxicating  me.  And  if 
it  hadn't  been  for  Stricky  going  back  on  me  the  way 
he  done,  I  would  of  been  quite  happy. 

It's  a  funny  thing,  but  whenever  I  was  out  with  two 
sweeties,  such  as  Tommy  and  Anita,  I  always  got  to 
dreaming  of  how  I  loved  Stricky  and  encouraging  a 
lot  of  lonesomeness  in  myself  the  way  the  third  party 
is  apt  to  in  such  a  case.  Sweet  daddy!  It  is  no  easy 
thing  for  a  girl  to  sit  in  the  tonneau  of  a  big  bus  all 
alone  on  a  moonlight  night  and  watch  the  silhouettes 
of  two  good  friends  of  either  sex  on  the  front  seat, 
even  if  one  of  them  is  driving.  Only  a  person  of  great 
strength  of  character  like  myself  can  resist  taking  on 
something  temporary  when  they  are  constantly  exposed 
to  that  sort  of  stuff. 

Well,  anyways  Anita  and  this  goof  were  particularly 
bad  specimens  and  my  only  comfort  lay  in  the  thought 
that  well  anyways  my  hair  would  not  be  all  mussed 
up  when  we  got  to  the  party. 

It  was  kind  of  a  shock  to  me,  though,  when  we 
swung  down  off  Ocean  Boulevard  in  Santa  Monica, 
and  stopped  in  front  of  a  frame  cottage  that  would 
not  of  been  really  conspicuous  back  home  at  Stony- 


Laughter  Limited  111 

brook  Beach.  At  first  I  thought  there  must  be  some 
mistake  and  that  we  had  not  go  there  yet. 

"Is  this  Muro's  house?"  I  says,  trying  not  to  be 
too  disappointed,  because  I  had  naturally  expected  it 
to  be  a  palace. 

"Sure  it's  his  house !"  says  Tommy,  helping  me  out. 
"But  not  the  one  he  lives  in.  He  just  has  this  one 
for  bathing  and  other  parties." 

Well,  Muro's  stock  went  up  with  me  again,  because 
a  three-story  house  is  a  big  one  to  keep  just  as  an 
extra,  so  to  speak,  and  once  inside  I  got  even  more 
impressed.  There  was  two  Jap  butlers  in  sort  of  bum- 
blebee costumes  in  the  lower  hallway,  and  a  blast  from 
errant  saxophones  was  shaking  it  up  in  the  big  shad- 
owy room  beyond.  Not  to  mention  the  elegant  big 
bedroom  upstairs  into  which  Anita  and  I  was  shown, 
there  to  lay  our  humble  wraps  down  among  a  flock 
of  evening  capes  which  looked  like  a  bargain  sale  at 
a  brocade  factory. 

"Some  bungalow!"  Anita  whispered  to  me.  "Kid, 
this  is  class;  we  are  in  on  the  real  thing!" 

"I'll  say  we  are !"  I  says,  taking  in  the  painted  fur- 
niture, thick  carpets  and  crowding  females  around  the 
long  dressing  mirrors.  "I  guess  we  must  of  been  mis- 
taken about  being  asked  to  dinner.  Where  on  earth 
could  they  feed  this  crowd  unless  at  a  buffet?" 

"Oh,  it's  dinner,  all  right !"  says  Anita,  finding  park- 
ing space  for  a  little  more  rouge  on  her  lips.  "Noth- 
ing small-time  about  Mr.  Muro." 

"You  said  it!"  says  one  of  the  girls  at  the  mirror, 
in  a  silver-spangled  dress  which  commenced  way  be- 


112  Laughter  Limited 

low  the  chin  and  forgot  to  go  on  below  the  knees. 
"You  said  it!  Tom  certainly  can  peddle  a  party!" 

Over  to  one  side  was  a  couple  of  girls  which  I  rec- 
ognized them  at  Kit  Knute  Divers,  Betty  Anders  and 
another  whose  name  I  didn't  know,  but  I  had  often 
seen  both  of  them  in  comedies  and  bathing  suits,  and 
now  easily  recognized  them  because  of  their  being 
practically  dressed  the  same  to-night.  Also 'they  was 
talking  together  and  this  is  what  they  says. 

"Are  you  taking  up  golf,  too,  deah?"  says  Betty, 
and  the  other  come  back  with  "Oh,  my  deah,  I've 
been  at  it  for  an  age!"  Then  Betty  says,  "  I*do  hope 
you  won't  think  it  odd,  my  coming  here  to-night  with 
Harry.  His  wife  is  ill,  poor  deah,  and  he  simply  in- 
sisted! I'm  uneasy  about  our  being  seen  together, 
though.  You  know  how  fearfully  easily  people  talk!" 

Well,  I  guess  that  super-Boston  accent,  coming  from 
the  well-known  divers,  was  even  more  of  a  jolt  than 
the  inside  of  Muro's  house  had  been.  Then  Anita  was 
all  set  and  we  drifted  along  downstairs. 

During  that  first  half  hour  of  the  evening  I  was 
impressed  by  the  air  of  refinement  and  the  English 
pronunciation  on  every  hand.  I  felt  like  a  mut,  and 
common  as  dirt.  There  was  forty  people  at  the  party, 
and  nobody  introduced  anybody  around.  I  didn't  even 
know  which  was  Mr.  Muro.  Almost  all  of  the  girls 
was  in  evening  dress  but  none  of  the  men,  but  yet  it 
was  a  brilliant  scene,  and  everybody  spoke  whether 
they  knew  each  other  or  not. 

After  the  bumblebee  Jap  butlers  had  buzzed  around 
with  a  flock  of  cocktails,  but  buzzed  around  me  in 


Laughter  Limited  113 

vain,  somebody  threw  open  a  double  door  like  in  a 
drama,  and  there  was  a  huge  round  table,  and  if  you 
have  never  seen  a  table  set  for  forty  people  you  can 
guess  my  sensations,  otherwise  not.  Especially  when 
I  add  that  not  alone  was  this  table  glistening  with 
glass  and  silver  and  the  center  of  it  heaped  with  scarlet 
eucalyptus  blossoms  and  white  oleanders,  but  at  each 
and  every  place  set  a  whole  quart  of  champagne.  I 
felt  an  awful  funny  mixture  of  thrill,  scare  and  pleas- 
ure as  a  little  short  fellow  which  had  been  telling  me 
how  good  he  was  seized  me  by  the  arm  and  we  went 
in  to  that  dining  room,  somewheres  about  the  middle 
of  a  long  procession  which  was  dancing  to  their  meal, 
the  jazz  band  leading  the  way. 

And  that  band  never  stopped  the  whole  time  we 
ate,  because  in  Hollywood  it  is  a  fixed  custom  that 
you  get  either  incessant  phonograph  or  incessant  jazz 
band  with  every  social  gathering,  and  a  mighty  lucky 
thing,  too,  because  otherwise  the  folks  might  have  to 
talk. 

Well,  the  little  feller  which  had  brought  me  in  had 
kind  of  run  short  on  how  good  he  was,  and  so  com- 
menced to  vary  the  talk  with  how  good  I  was.  Ac- 
cording to  him  I  was  some  wren  and  too  good  to  work 
for  my  living.  Also  I  soon  found  out  his  politics. 
He  was  a  Shin-Finder. 

Well,  of  course,  I  wasn't  going  to  stand  for  any 
rough  stuff  like  that  and  so  I  crossed  mine  the  other 
way  on  the  far  side  of  my  chair  and  talked  to  the 
partner  on  the  other  hand  of  me,  who  happened  to 
be  Anita's  Tommy,  and  would  you  believe  it,  he  started 


114  Laughter  Limited 

a  hot  line  at  once,  and  there  was  Anita  only  three 
places  away!  I  tried  to  stall  him  off  by  asking  who 
was  everybody,  and  it  seems  several  of  the  big  comedy 
producers  was  there.  As  for  the  girls,  they  was  mostly 
D-minus  leads — or  just  girls. 

Well,  I  don't  like  to  say  much  bout  any  party  to 
which  I  have  been  a  invited  guest,  but  there  are  occa- 
sions when  this  doesn't  go,  and  Mr.  Muro's  party  was 
one  of  them. 

Did  you  ever  see  an  Early  Roman  fillum  called  Quo 
Vadis?  I  don't  mean  one  of  these  new  importations; 
I  mean  a  very  old  one  made  in  Italy  about  30  A.D.  ? 
Well,  it  is  a  marvelous  picture,  for  a  costume  piece, 
and  there  is  some  pretty  rough  parties  in  it,  but  it  got 
by  the  censors,  and  this  party  I  am  telling  you  about 
would  not  have.  And  yet  there  was  some  footage  that 
evening  at  Muro's  which  to  this  day  stands  out  in  my 
mind  like  stills. 

When  dinner  was  half  over,  of  the  most  beautiful 
food  I  had  ever  seen  in  my  life,  the  front  door  burst 
open  and  in  come  Atlas  Smith ;  you  know,  the  famous 
strong  man.  And  he  was  followed  by  a  stormy  crowd 
of  friends  which  had  all  of  them  invited  theirselves 
to  this  party  of  ours,  and  had  already  got  thoroughly 
wet  before  arriving.  Well,  the  first  still  I  am  telling 
about  is  of  Atlas,  he  having  broken  up  the  party  from 
the  table  and  by  then  nobody  cared  if  they  ate  any 
more  or  not.  Well,  Atlas,  he  started  something  with 
Anita,  and  she  pretended  she  didn't  care  for  it  and 
lay  down  on  the  floor  and  commenced  to  holler.  So 
this  big  giant  lifted  her  up  on  the  palms  of  his  hands 


Laughter  Limited  115 

and  bumped  her  against  the  ceiling  until  she  yelled 
uncle.  He  did  it  with  no  more  effort  than  if  she  had 
been  a  paper  doll,  although  he  was  very  drunk,  with 
no  collar  on,  and  the  muscles  in  his  neck  never  even 
strained.  That  is  one  of  the  stills  I  will  never  forget. 

Another  is  of  Betty,  the  girl  which  had  been  so  re- 
fined upstairs,  her  pretty  accent  all  wilted,  her  face 
misty  with  drink,  and  talking  natural  while  holding 
out  her  overflowing  wineglass  to  me  and  bawling  me 
out  because  I  was  sober. 

"Drink  wish  me,  dearie,"  she  yelled.  "Shay — you're 
too  dam'  refined  for  thish  party !"  Which  was  checked 
off  to  humor  by  the  rest  of  the  crowd. 

Well,  when  we  left  the  table  I  was  in  a  sort  of 
daze,  not  knowing  quite  what  to  do.  My  brain  actu- 
ally couldn't  take  it  all  in.  It  was  like  a  mask  had 
fallen  off  everybody  there,  leaving  something  fluid 
exposed.  I'm  not  trying  to  be  funny  by  meaning  the 
liquor.  I  mean  that  when  these  folks  forgot  their 
false  fronts,  which  it's  the  truth  we  all  present  one 
to  the  world,  there  didn't  seem  to  be  nothing  left  to 
them  but  mush.  They  pawed  anybody  near.  They 
said  things — sweet  daddy !  The  room  swam  in  a  blue 
haze  of  cigarette  smoke  and  sound  waves  from  the 
saxophones,  and  for  a  moment  it  seemed  to  me  that 
the  men  and  women's  face  floated  in  that  curious  sea, 
half  detached  from  their  bodies  like  the  bloated  faces 
of  drowned  people.  It  was  a  nasty  thought,  but  hon- 
est, that  is  the  way  it  looked.  I  felt  sick,  and  crawled 
off  behind  a  thick  curtain  in  a  bay  window,  but  even 
that  curtain  seemed  heavy  with  strong  perfume  and 


116  Laughter  Limited 

tobacco  smoke,  and  the  damask  felt  slimy  under  my 
hand  as  I  clung  to  it,  trying  to  think.  And  then  a 
pale  face  like  a  moon  come  around  the  corner  after 
me.  It  was  the  little  man  which  had  danced  me  in  to 
dinner,  and  his  face  was  pasty  white. 

"I  like  you !"  he  says  in  a  thick  voice.  "How  would 
you  like  to  go  to  work  to-morrow  ?  I  will  sign  a  con- 
tract." 

Then  his  wet  paw  reached  out  and  lit  on  my  bare 
shoulder. 

That  was  enough.  Ordinarily  I  am  no  athlete,  but 
when  a  thing  has  got  to  be  done,  it  can.  I  give  that 
clown  one  shove  which  sent  him  unexpectedly  half 
across  the  window  into  a  big  chair,  where  he  sat  stu- 
pidly staring  like  a  big  Japanese  doll  which  I  had 
thrown  there.  He  didn't  seem  real.  But  I  cut  out, 
for  all  of  that.  Somehow  I  stumbled  and  fought  my 
way  across  the  floor,  which  was  now  crowded  with 
dancers,  and  up  the  dim  stairway,  disturbing  a  couple 
who  were  mushing  it  up.  Frantically  I  dug  my  coat 
out  of  the  pile  and  then  down  the  stairs  again,  the 
laughter  and  screams  and  jazz  beating  in  my  face  like 
a  evil  wind.  At  the  front  door  a  woman  caught  me 
and  called  something  aloud.  It  was  Anita. 

"You  little  fool !"  she  screamed  angrily.  "That  was 
Tommy  Muro  himself!" 

"Well,  I  don't  give  a  damn !"  I  shouted  back.  And 
then  I  tore  myself  away  from  her  and  slammed  out 
into  the  cool  dark  street. 

How  long  I  ran  and  ran  I  hardly  know.  I  wasn't 
wearing  any  speedometer,  so  I  can't  be  sure,  but  I'll 


Laughter  Limited  117 

say  it  seemed  like  a  hundred  miles.  The  part  of  the 
beach  that  I  was  at  is  all  built  up  into  narrow  streets, 
mere  alleys,  a  lot  of  them,  and  at  night  they  are  dark 
like  the  Middle  Ages.  They  twist  and  turn  a  lot  too. 
I  would  dart  up  one  of  them  as  far  as  it  ran  straight, 
and  then  along  the  next  one,  and  the  next.  Dim  lights 
twinkled  here  and  there,  and  a  strong  salt  wind  brought 
in  the  roar  of  the  Pacific.  Pretty  soon  the  narrow, 
stifling  houses  was  behind  me,  and  the  big,  clean 
stretch  of  ocean  was  there  on  my  left,  under  a  white 
moon.  Ahead  the  lights  of  Venice,  which  is  the  Coney 
Island  of  the  Coast,  winked  and  twinkled. 

I  was  running  along  an  immense  boardwalk  by  then, 
my  high  heels  catching  in  the  cracks,  but  not  enough 
to  stop  me.  Where  I  was  going  I  didn't  know,  except 
that  it  was  away.  And  then  all  of  a  sudden  I  couldn't 
run  any  further.  I  was  dog-tired,  and  seeing  a  bench 
under  a  electric  lamp  I  flopped  on  it  and  buried  my 
face  in  my  hands  and  cried. 

"That  can't  be  the  way  you  got  to  do  it,  Bonnie !"  I 
says.  "Don't  tell  me  different.  I  know  in  my  heart. 
If  a  person  has  the  goods  to  deliver,  some  one  will  buy 
them  at  a  fair  price,  surely!  I  don't  believe  things 
like  that  has  to  be  done!  I  won't  believe  it.  I'll  get 
in  the  pictures  yet,  and  get  in  straight,  so  help  me!" 

Well,  when  I  had  said  all  that  to  myself  I  quit 
crying  and  felt  better,  and  commenced  to  wonder  how 
was  I  to  get  home,  for  the  thought  just  come  to  me 
that  I  didn't  have  a  nickel  with  me  even  if  the  cars 
was  still  running,  nor  have  any  idea  how  or  where 
was  a  taxi  stand  or  a  telephone.  It  was  a  distinctly 


1 18  Laughter  Limited 

poor  situation  all  the  ways  around  and  I  felt  pretty 
weak  and  miserable  and  helpless.  Not  even  a  cop 
was  anywheres  in  sight,  and  the  only  thing  that  moved 
was  a  passing  auto  with  a  mushing  couple  in  it. 

Then  along  the  boardwalk  come  a  solitary  figure — 
a  young  man  walking  briskly,  whistling  and  swinging 
a  cane.  I  kind  of  shrank  up  close  against  the  lamp  by 
instinct,  hoping  he  wouldn't  take  any  notice  of  me. 
My  head  was  down  and  at  first  he  started  to  pass  by. 
Then  he  slowed  up  and  come  back,  kneeling  with  one 
knee  on  the  other  end  of  the  bench  and  giving  me  a 
light  poke  with  his  cane. 

"Good  evening,  kid!"  he  says,  and  I  looked  up. 

It  was  Stricky! 


CHAPTER  XI 

T?OR  a  moment  he  stared  at  me  without  actually 
F  knowing  it  was  I,  the  way  a  person  does  who  is 
far  from  expecting  to  see  you.  Then  it  began  to  dawn 
on  him  and  he  took  off  his  hat. 

"For  the  love  of  Mike !"  he  says.  "Why,  it's  Bon- 
nie!" 

"Yes !"  I  says,  getting  to  my  feet  and  commencing 
to  shake  all  over  like  the  last  straw  or  something. 
"Yes,  it's  me.  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  about 
it?" 

"Why — whatever  you  like!"  says  he.  "When  did 
you  get  here  and  why  didn't  you  let  me  know  you 
were  coming?  And  of  all  things,  why  are  you  sitting 
alone  out  here  in  those  clothes  at  this  hour?" 

"I  did  let  you  know!"  I  says.  "To  Silvermount 
offices!  And  as  for  being  here,  I  have  just  run  away 
from  a  party  I  didn't  like !" 

And  then  trembling  got  the  better  of  me  and  like 
a  darn  fool  I  sunk  down  on  the  bench  and  begun 
to  cry  for  all  I  was  worth. 

In  an  instant  Stricky  was  beside  me,  putting  a  arm 
around  me  and  pulling  me  to  him  with  a  lot  of  there- 
now-old-lady  and  get-hold-of-yourself-little-girl  and 
other  such  comforting  remarks.  And  for  a  moment 
just  any  old  friendly  shoulder  felt  so  good  to  cry  on 
that  I  didn't  have  the  courage  to  move  away  from 

119 


120  Laughter  Limited 

it,  nor  want  to  either.  After  a  minute  or  two  I  sat 
up  and  dried  my  eyes  and  was  thankful  I  had  a  com- 
pact powder  in  my  coat  pocket,  and  a  little  self-control 
back  again. 

"Here  now!  That's  better!"  says  Stricky.  "Say 
listen !  You  haven't  a  car  anywheres  around  ?  Well, 
we'll  walk  up  to  Sunset  and  get  one.  And  we  can 
talk  things  over." 

I  nodded,  and  we  started  for  the  top  of  the  cliff. 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  wrote  to  the  Silvermount 
offices?"  says  Stricky.  "That's  why  I  didn't  get  the 
letter.  You  see  I  got  out  a  little  while  ago.  We 
couldn't  agree  on  my  new  contract,  and  I  simply  re- 
fused to  stay  along  on  the  old  basis,  so  I  got  out. 
And  they  have  been  beastly  careless  about  forwarding 
my  mail." 

"Oh!"  I  says  faintly.  "I  came  out  here  on  your 
word,  you  see!  Where  are  you  now?" 

"Well,  nowhere,"  says  he.  "But  I  have  a  big  offer 
that  I'm  considering.  I  haven't  signed  yet,  but  I  ex- 
pect that  I  will  in  a  day  or  two.  Now  tell  me  about 
yourself !" 

"There  isn't  anything  interesting,"  I  says.  "I'm  not 
working  yet.  But  there  is  nothing  original  about  that 
in  this  town." 

"Gee,  that's  a  shame!"  says  Stricky  with  vigorous 
annoyance.  "When  I  sign  up  with  Muro  perhaps  I 
can  do  something  for  you." 

"Muro!"  I  says,  drawing  away  from  the  arm  he 
had  through  mine.  "Muro!  Oh!  Not  there!" 

"Say  listen!     They  are  fine  people!"  says  Stricky. 


Laughter  Limited  121 

"Tom's  a  great  little  feller.  I'll  introduce  you  to  Tom, 
and  if  you  make  a  hit  you  can  get  anything  you  want 
on  the  lot." 

To  me  all  this  was  like  a  sudden  iceberg  after  a 
friendly  stove  if  you  can  see  what  I  mean.  I  wanted 
to  think  I  had  been  wrong  about  Stricky  and  it  seemed 
like  he  wouldn't  let  me. 

I  says  no  again,  getting  more  faint  and  remote  by 
the  minute,  and  by  this  time  we  had  come  to  Sunset 
Inn,  which  is  called  that  way  because  it  don't  start 
until  sunset  and  then  tries  to  double  for  the  sun  all 
night.  It  blazed  with  orange  lights,  and  as  we  stopped 
in  front  the  orchestra  broke  out  into  a  fresh  effort. 
From  the  row  that  it  made  I  could  easily  imagine  some 
well-known  star  was  playing  the  traps  as  per  usual. 
I  don't  believe  I  ever  really  hated  jazz  except  at  that 
moment.  Jazz  has  no  business  butting  in  on  a  person's 
private  troubles. 

"Care  to  go  in  for  a  while?"  says  Stricky,  jerking 
his  head  towards  the  door.  But  I  shook  mine. 

"I'd  rather  go  home,  please,"  I  says.  "The  Laurel- 
wood." 

Stricky  called  a  taxi,  and  under  the  strong  light  I 
seen  that  he  was  just  as  swank  as  ever.  Even  the 
way  he  stood  had  snap,  and  I  couldn't  help  but  feel 
a  kind  of  softness  towards  him,  for  it's  the  truth  that 
it  takes  an  awful  lot  of  proving  to  make  any  woman 
believe  a  man  with  smooth  hair  and  a  perfect  tie  is 
really  a  villain,  especially  when  he  is  trying  hard  to 
flag  her. 

When  he  helped  me  into  the  darkness  of  the  taxi 


122  Laughter  Limited 

and  got  in  beside  me,  settling  down  for  the  long  drive 
home,  I  softened  even  more,  and  little  by  little  he  got 
out  of  me  something  of  what  had  happened  that  eve- 
ning, only  of  course  I  mentioned  no  names.  A  well- 
known  producer  was  all  I  says.  And  while  I  told 
him,  the  light  charm  of  this  bird  was  actually  so  strong 
that  he  had  me  forgetting  how  he  had  lied  to  me! 
Then  he  started  talking. 

"Say  listen!"  he  says,  coolly  lighting  a  cigarette 
as  if  I  had  merely  described  Merry  Christmas  or 
something.  "A  contract  is  a  rare  animal  around  here 
this  season — I'll  say  it  is!  Why  don't  you  take 
him  up?" 

"Stricky !"  I  says.    "No !  Not  that  from  you !" 

"But  why  not?"  he  persisted.  "You  want  to  be 
a  great  actress.  Well  then,  you  got  to  live,  to  get  all 
kinds  of  experience  or  you'll  never  be  worth  a  damn. 
Take  things  as  they  come,  and  don't  get  in  love  or 
marry.  That's  my  motto!" 

Now,  I  got  a  sort  of  hangover,  I  guess,  from  the 
older  generation.  I  couldn't  see  how  a  person  would 
be  able  to  talk  like  that  and  actually  mean  it.  There 
was  a  horrible  casualness  about  the  tone  in  which 
he  spoke.  If  Stricky  had  been  frankly  vicious  I  would- 
n't of  minded  half  so  much,  because  active  viciousness 
is  a  definite  thing  that  a  person  can  fight.  It  was  his 
taking  the  supreme  important  thing  in  life — love — in 
the  same  tone  as  breakfast  food,  made  me  feel  so  bad. 
And  it  was  the  third  time  in  one  night  I  had  heard 
that  attitude  expressed.  Could  it  really  be  true  that 
I  was  the  only  one  who  thought  decency  worth  having  ? 


Laughter  Limited  123 

The  idea  come  pretty  near  being  intolerable.  And 
when  Stricky,  after  saying  what  he  had,  went  further 
and  apparently  considered  it  would  be  a  matter  of 
course  to  kiss  me  good  night,  I  couldn't  even  speak  to 
him  in  protest.  All  I  could  do  was  to  shove  him 
away  and  stumble  blindly  into  the  hotel. 

If  I  had  been  one  of  these  trained  carrier  pigeons 
and  A'dele's  room  the  dovecot,  or  whatever  they  call 
it,  I  couldn't  of  gone  there  any  straighter  or  swifter 
than  I  did. 

Adele  was  in  bed  of  course  and  also  in  full  night 
armor  from  chin  strap  to  corn  plasters,  and  to  some 
she  might  of  looked  funny,  but  to  me  she  was  beauti- 
ful, for  her  arms  went  straight  out  to  me  and  her  eyes 
shone  with  kindness  from  the  middle  of  the  cold 
cream  and  everything  the  instant  she  caught  sight  of 
my  face. 

"Oh,  Adele — you  tell  me  it  don't  need  to  be  true! 
that  I  got  to  come  across  to  get  into  the  pictures!" 
I  wailed,  throwing  myself  at  her  with  more  force  than 
compunction.  "Say  I  don't  need  to  stand  for  it.  Say 
I  can  make  good  by  making  good !" 

"Honey !"  she  cried,  folding  her  blessed  arms  around 
me  and  understanding  everything  in  a  flash.  "Of 
course  you  can!  There,  there!  Cry  all  you  want, 
dear.  I  understand,  and  I'd  like  to  beat  up  the  bunch 
of  crooks  that  you  been  out  with,  whoever  they  are !" 

"Oh,  Adele,  Adele!"  was  all  I  could  say. 

"There  now,  I  guess  I'm  wise!"  says  she.  "I  sup- 
pose you  are  dead  broke,  dear,  and  that  you  went  on 
a  job-party  in  despair  and  then  found  you  was  too 


124  Laughter  Limited 

decent  to  go  through  with  it?  I  thought  so.  Well, 
it  won't  lose  you  anything  in  the  end,  honey.  Char- 
acter is  as  much  value  to  an  actress  as  to  anybody." 

"But  what'll  I  do?"  I  says,  partially  recovering. 
"I'm  stony.  I  can't  get  a  opening.  It  seems  like  it's 
absolutely  hopeless." 

"Well,  tell  me  one  thing,  dear,"  says  Adele.  "Are 
you  absolutely  convinced  you  can  act?  Or  do  you  just 
want  a  lot  of  easy  money?" 

"Everybody  on  earth  wants  a  lot  of  easy  money," 
I  says,  "but  only  a  fool  expects  to  get  it.  No,  Adele, 
I  want  to  act;  I  want  to  make  good !" 

"And  what  makes  you  think  you  can?"  she  says, 
but  very  kindly. 

"What  makes  a  person  believe  religion?"  I  asked  her 
back.  "You  just  know  it's  true  that  there  is  a  God 
and  nothing  can  shake  you.  That's  how  I  feel  about 
being  able  to  act  and  to  make  good.  It's  the  same  as 
my  religion." 

To  my  surprise  Adele  reached  over  and  kissed  me. 

"There!"  she  says.  "I  knew  it!  They  say  the 
broad  and  easy  path  is  the  one  to  travel  in  the  movies, 
but  7  always  say  there's  too  much  traffic  on  it.  Better 
take  the  narrow  one,  dear,  and  I'll  go  with  you." 

"How?"  says  I,  vaguely  pleased,  but  not  under- 
standing. 

"I'll  tell  you  something,"  says  she.  "When  I  first 
saw  you  I  hoped  you  was  a  prospect.  And  I  needed 
one  badly,  for,  honey,  I'm  about  broke  too !" 

"You  mean  you  thought  I  might  hire  you  for  my 
mother?"  I  gasped. 


Laughter  Limited  125 

"Just  that!"  says  Adele.  "And  when  I  found  out 
you  was  green  and  had  no  money,  why  I  naturally 
put  the  idea  out  of  my  head.  But  meanwhile  I've  got 
to  be  real  fond  of  you,  and  I'm  going  to  help  you 
all  I  can!  And  the  first  thing  we  are  going  to  do  is 
move  out  of  this  hotel  into  cheap  but  decent  rooms  with 
privilege  to  use  the  kitchen  range  and  washtubs." 

"I'm  for  it!"  says  I. 

"And  you  will  take  any  extra  stuff  you  can  get," 
she  says. 

"Fine!"   says  I. 

"Furthermore,  you  need  to  change  your  last  name," 
says  she.  "And  you  can  just  simply  take  on  mine. 
Bonnie  Delane.  How  does  it  listen?" 

"It  listens  well,"  says  I.  "But  not  half  as  good  as 
living  together  with  you  does.  I  need  you  bad,  Adele." 

"Well,  my  first  official  act  will  be  to  send  you 
straight  off  to  bed,"  says  she.  "And  by  the  way,  dear, 
you  better  cut  the  Adele  from  now  on.  Call  me 
mommer !" 

"Oh,  mommer,  you  just  bet  I  will,  Adele!"  says  I. 


CHAPTER  XII 

TN  the  house  on  Vine  Street  to  where  mommer 
•*•  and  I  moved,  there  was  beds  that  flew  up  into  the 
wall  if  you  didn't  hold  'em  down  to  the  floor  by  main 
force.  Also  we  had  an  elegant  bright  green  ingrow- 
ing rug  on  our  sitting-room  floor,  woodwork  with  a 
mahogany-almost  finish  on  it,  and  a  landlady  that 
trusted  us  like  we  was  burglars. 

That  was  partly  my  fault,  because  when  we  first 
looked  at  the  place,  I  should  of  let  mommer  do  all 
the  talking,  instead  of  which  I  went  and  horned  in. 
For  when  we  had  seen  that  the  rooms  was  as  right 
as  we  could  expect  for  the  money,  Mrs.  Snifter,  the 
landlady  of  the  flat,  come  around  to  references  with 
all  the  delicacy  of  a  pickax. 

"Are  you  in  pictures  or  are  you  working?"  she 
says  suspiciously. 

"In  pictures,"  I  says  with  great  pride,  thinking  that 
would  settle  everything.  And  it  did,  pretty  nearly, 
only  not  the  way  I  had  intended.  For  I  seen  at  once 
by  Mrs.  Snifter's  face  that  it  had  not  been  a  refer- 
ence but  a  confession. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  about  letting  these  rooms  go," 
she  says.  "I  had  about  promised  them  to  a  young 
man  who  has  a  job  with  a  business  house." 

"We  will  pay  the  usual  two  weeks  in  advance  if 
you  wish,"  says  mommer,  giving  that  woman  the 

126 


Laughter  Limited  127 

scornful  eyebrow  in  a  manner  I  certainly  did  admire. 
The  landlady  right  away  softened  up  a  little  and  re- 
marked well,  she'd  really  rather  have  a  couple  of 
.nice  ladies  and  we  could  stay  if  we  liked,  so  mommer 
wrote  out  a  check  for  the  advance,  Mrs.  Snifter  took 
it  and  reluctantly  left  us  alone  in  our  new  quarters, 
and  then  mommer  turned  on  me. 

"Don't  you  know  any  better  than  to  admit  you  are 
in  pictures  to  a  native  landlady  ?"  she  demanded.  "My 
heavens,  I  thought  we  was  going  to  lose  the  place! 
Always  leave  them  think  at  first  that  you  are  a  East- 
ern tourist  or  a  Iowa  farmer's  family  looking  for  a 
permanent  home,  and  you'll  get  treated  right.  There! 
Don't  take  off  your  hat,  child.  I  want  you  to  take 
this  cash  and  run  down  to  the  bank  with  it  before  she 
puts  that  check  through." 

"But  for  the  love  of  Pete!"  I  says.  "If  you  had 
the  cash  with  you  why  didn't  you  give  it  to  her?" 

"I  like  to  keep  my  bank  balance  up  as  high  as  pos- 
sible," says  mommer  seriously.  "And  I  only  had  the 
cash  in  case  she  refused  to  take  the  check." 

Well,  I  went  down  to  the  bank  like  she  asked,  put- 
ting in  my  half  of  the  expense,  too,  and  feeling  more 
hopeful  of  the  future  than  I  had  at  any  time  since  I 
arrived  in  the  West.  That  I  was  actually  more  nearly 
broke  than  ever  before  in  my  life  did  not  seem  to 
matter  at  all,  and  that  I  was  furthermore  about  to 
demean  myself  by  looking  for  atmosphere  work  now 
appeared  to  me  in  the  light  of  the  right  thing  to  do. 
I  wouldn't  let  it  queer  me.  I'd  be  so  darn  good  that 
it  would  be  impossible  to  overlook  me,  and  some  day 


128  Laughter  Limited 

the  director  would  beckon  and  say,  "Come  here,  little 
girl,  you  with  the  blond  curls  I  want  to  speak  to  you," 
and  that  would  be  the  beginning  of  my  triumph. 

Dreaming  daydreams  like  that,  Hollywood  again  be- 
come a  city  of  enchantment,  and  it's  a  true  fact  that 
on  one  day  in  Hollywood  you  say  of  it,  "I  must  get 
out  of  this  infernal  place  before  it  swamps  all  my 
decent  instincts,"  and  then  the  next  day  something 
nice  happens  to  you  and  you  say  "Dear,  gay  Holly- 
wood, how  pretty,  what  fun  we  get  here,  I  am  going 
to  make  a  million  dollars  and  never  move  away!" 

This  being  one  of  the  hurrah  days,  I  was  ready  to 
fall  on  the  neck  of  the  first  person  I  met  and  would 
of,  only  it  happened  to  be  Axel,  and  he  was  too  tall 
for  it.  But  I  was  real  cordial. 

"Hello!"  says  he.  "Ay  see  by  tha  doorbell  you 
bane  living  also  in  da  same  house!" 

"Is  that  so?"  says  I.  "How  did  you  get  by  the 
Delane?" 

"Ay  youst  talk  with  your  mother,"  he  says  sol- 
emnly. And  you  certainly  got  to  hand  it  to  these 
foreigners  for  having  good  manners.  Think  of  the 
kidding  I  would  of  got  from  any  American  on  a  thing 
like  that !  But  from  Axel's  line  you  would  of  thought 
she  had  been  my  mother  the  whole  time. 

"Say,  Axel,"  I  says,  calling  him  that  way  partially 
because  instantaneous  first  names  is  a  custom  of  the 
country  and  partially  because  I  couldn't  pronounce  his 
last  one — "say,  Axel,"  I  says,  "you've  been  working 
for  Silvermount,  haven't  you?" 

He  nodded,  a  slight  blush  showing  that  he  appre- 


Laughter  Limited  129 

ciated  my  tact  in  not  saying  "doing  atmosphere,"  the 
same  as  I  had  appreciated  his  delicacy  about  mommer. 

"Yes,"  he  says.     "Aye  must  get  some  experience." 

"I  wonder  would  you  help  me  get  in  there?"  I  went 
on  with  my  best  smile — the  one  which  has  since  brought 
me  in  something  over  two  million  dollars.  It  worked, 
even  then. 

"Aye  be  glad  to  try,"  he  says. 

And  that  was  a  lot  for  anybody  to  promise,  because 
every  one  for  themself  and  never  bring  along  a  friend 
that  may  take  attention  off  you,  is  the  motto  of  the 
first-line  trenches  in  the  picture  war. 

"You  see  I  feel  like  you  do,"  says  I;  "that  the  ex- 
perience will  be  valuable.  Know  the  business  from  the 
bottom  up.  That's  my  theory." 

After  which  I  explained  laughingly  that  mommer 
and  I  had  got  simply  bored  to  death  with  hotel  life. 
We  just  positively  could  not  even  endure  to  enter  a 
restaurant  any  more,  and  that  as  a  matter  of  fact  we 
were  going  to  have  a  little  snack  at  home  this  very 
evening,  and  would  love  to  have  him  join  us. 

Axel  agreed  that  there  was  nothing  like  a  little 
place  of  your  own.  As  for  home  cooking,  he  adored 
it  and  would  be  tickled  to  eat  with  us.  So  he  went 
along  with  me  to  the  delicatessen  stall  at  the  nearest 
market,  while  I  bought  some  cold  ham  and  crackers 
and  a  dish  of  crabflake  salad  with  Pons  Asinorum  in 
green  peppers  on  the  top  of  it,  and  a  bottle  of  milk 
and  some  fresh  figs.  And  then  we  went  back  to  the 
flat,  there  to  enjoy  a  typical  Southern  California  home 
supper,  in  a  very  friendly,  chatty  way.  And  as  mom- 


130  Laughter  Limited 

mer  said  when  Axel  went  off  to  his  own  room  after 
helping  with  the  dishes,  it  certainly  is  a  pleasure  to 
meet  somebody  who  talks  your  own  language  even 
if  they  can't  do  it  in  English. 

The  very  next  day  Axel  piloted  me  to  the  Silver- 
mount.  Not  to  the  exclusive — and  exclusive  is  right 
— front  door,  up  to  which  I  had  pranced  so  confidently 
before,  but  to  the  side  entrance,  where  I  had  seen  him 
coming  out  with  the  crowd  for  the  Nickolls'  location. 
Axel  went  to  a  window  half  ways  down  a  sort  of  tun- 
nel, which  led  out  onto  the  big  lot  itself,  and  spoke 
to  a  harassed-looking  man  inside. 

"Not  to-day,  not  to-day!"  says  the  man  impatiently. 
"Nothing  doing !  Hold  on,  though.  Renway  is  going 
to  do  a  big  afternoon-reception  sequence  over  on  stage 
four  to-morrow  morning.  He  is  calling  for  a  snappy 
crowd.  Bring  her  around  for  that  if  you  like,  and 
remember — on  the  set,  made  up  and  ready  at  nine 
sharp!" 

My  heart  was  jazzing  while  I  listened. 

"There!"  beamed  Axel,  coming  back  to  me  in  tri- 
umph. "Ain't  we  got  fun?  Youst  svell  afternoon 
clothes  and  aye  make  up  your  face  for  you!" 

Sweet  daddy !  What  a  pipe  it  seemed.  Ten  dollars 
a  day  for  nothing!  How  it  did  pay  to  make  friends. 
I  had  got  Axel  a  meal,  which  he  had  plainly  needed, 
and  there  he  had  at  once  gone  and  got  me  a  job! 
I  could  of  hugged  the  great  good-looking  boob,  and 
together  we  just  regularly  danced  home  to  tell  the  news 
to  mommer. 

It  was  she  made  me  up  next  morning,  and  not  Axel, 


Laughter  Limited  131 

after  all.  When  she  had  me  finished,  all  the  way  from 
grease  to  yellow  powder,  and  shown  me  how  to  soak 
my  powder  puff  with  cold  cream  and  saturate  the 
powder  onto  that,  I  felt  real  professional.  I  hadn't 
given  away  that  up  to  that  very  minute  I  supposed 
stage  make-up  and  screen  make-up  was  the  same,  and 
would  never  have  dreamed  of  putting  red  inside  my 
nostrils  unless  she  had  told  me  to.  Well,  when  she 
had  done  this  she  turned  me  around  in  my  embroidered 
suit  and  my  small  hat,  a  sort  of  worried  pucker  gather- 
ing between  her  eyes. 

"I  hope  it  will  get  by,"  she  says.  "There,  honey, 
your  face  is  O.  K.  anyways !" 

And  then  she  sent  off  Axel  and  me  and  started 
washing  up  the  dishes  before  we  was  fairly  out  of  the 
place  like  the  genuinest  mother  that  ever  was.  Half 
an  hour  later  I  was  back,  alone,  and  crying  on  her 
shoulder. 

"Oh,  honey!"  says  Adele,  "was  it  your  clothes?  I 
was  afraid  so !  I  hate  to  tell  you,  honey,  but  I  wouldn't 
be  your  mommer  if  I  didn't.  Your  street  clothes  is 
something  fierce!  I  thought  it  was  a  mob,  but  if  I 
had  known  it  was  a  drawing-room  I  wouldn't  of  even 
let  you  try.  Now  your  black  evening  dress  is  fine! 
A  evening  reception  would  of  been  O.  K.  or  a  ball- 
room." 

"He's  a  beast,  that  director!"  I  gasped.  "No  man- 
ners !  Why,  we  was  all  set.  He  had  called  for  lights, 
even,  when  he  saw  me  and  says  to  his  assistant — not 
even  to  me  direct,  mommer — he  says  to  his  assistant 
to  take  that  little  hick  out  of  the  set  and  send  her 


132  Laughter  Limited 

home — this  was  a  swell  affair  and  what  the  hell  did 
they  mean  by  letting  in  people  who  didn't  have  a  proper 
wardrobe?" 

"I  know,  honey!"  says  she.  "But  don't  you  fuss 
any  more.  It  can't  be  helped,  although  it's  a  disap- 
pointment. In  the  old  days  they  used  to  furnish  a 
wardrobe,  but  now  they  don't  for  anything  except  cos- 
tume pieces." 

"But  I  have  no  money  to  get  a  new  suit  or  hat!" 
I  says.  "My  black  evening  dress  will  be  a  big  help 
if  nobody  gives  a  ball  for  the  next  couple  of 
weeks !" 

And  sweet  daddy,  didn't  I  say  a  mouthful  in  that 
remark,  though!  Not  only  did  nobody  put  on  a  ball- 
room within  my  hearing,  but  not  even  a  good  big  street 
crowd  that  couldn't  apparently  be  picked  up  free  right 
downtown  in  Los  Angeles  somewheres. 

And  then  one  solid  month  later  Axel  burst  in  with 
the  glorious  news  that  the  Artlife  studio  was  going 
to  do  a  giant  costume  production  with  mob  scenes  in 
it.  He  had  been  notified  to  come  to  work. 

"And  this  time  I  ban  going  ta  get  you  by,  betchew 
may  life !"  he  says. 

The  next  morning  we  was  outside  of  the  Artlife 
gates  early.  But  prompt  as  we  was,  three  or  four 
had  beaten  us  to  it.  As  is  the  regular  way  with  a 
mob  scene,  the  assistant  directors  had  notified  their 
preferences,  and  put  an  ad  in  the  papers  as  well.  And 
when  an  ad  for  extras  appears  in  a  Los  Angeles  news- 
paper the  result  is  much  the  same  as  if  they  was  to 
advertise  free  beer. 


Laughter  Limited  133 

Owing  to  Axel's  advance  information,  however,  this 
howling  mob  accumulated  behind  instead  of  ahead  of 
us,  and  when  at  last  the  door  opened,  and  we  begun 
to  pour  in  past  the  assistant  casting  director,  why  Axel 
simply  says  as  we  come  abreast  of  this  bird  "Hello, 
Bill,  Aye  brought  may  lady  friend,"  and  Bill  give  one 
swift  but  sure  look  at  me  and  hands  me  a  slip  for 
my  name  and  says  the  women's  wardrobe  is  upstairs 
to  the  right,  and  then  he  added  the  sweetest  words 
tongue  or  pen  can  say. 

"You  are  hired,"  he  says. 

And  like  the  lady  who  was  sure  of  her  husband's 
love,  I  knew  it  before  he  spoke,  but  oh,  sweet  daddy, 
how  I  did  like  to  hear  him  say  the  words! 

Well,  the  costume  that  they  gave  me  made  me  look 
fully  two  hundred  years  older.  What  I  mean  to  say 
is  that  it  was  with  a  hoop  skirt  and  so  forth  and  a 
quilted  petticoat  and  it  was  the  first  time  in  my  life 
I  ever  wore  one.  Also  a  little  hat  about  as  big  as  a 
restaurant  pancake,  of  straw  and  ribbons  and  flowers, 
and  it  tied  with  long  streamers  under  the  back  of 
my  curls.  It  seems  I  was  a  French  Revolutionist  or 
something  and  the  script  was  a  melo  called  The  Queen's 
Necklace,  By  Alexander  du  Mas  Pear.  Well,  I  blessed 
this  Pear,  whoever  he  was,  for  writing  a  scenario  that 
required  crowds,  especially  when  the  girl  who  dressed 
next  to  me  at  the  long  locker  table  says  that  the  dope 
was  we  would  probably  work  for  a  week. 

"Well,  I  only  hope  the  company  will  last  that  long, 
that's  all,"  says  this  jane  who  told  me.  "I  hear  Benny 
Silvermount  is  on  the  rocks." 


134  Laughter  Limited 

"What's  that  to  us  over  here  at  Artlife?"  says  I, 
patting  on  cream. 

"Silvermount  owns  us,"  says  she.  "Every  produc- 
ing company  out  here  owns  the  next  one.  That's  why 
it's  so  easy  to  get  blacklisted.  There  ain't  really  much 
beside  Muro,  The  Divers  and  two  or  three  little  ones, 
that  Silvermount  don't  own.  Muro  is  the  only  real 
competitor  they  have." 

"It  would  be  fierce  to  get  in  wrong  then,"  says  I. 
"They  hand  a  grudge  on  down  the  line,  I  suppose?" 

"You  said  it!"  she  replied.  "There  goes  the  bell 
— come  along.  We  should  worry,  if  we  get  our  checks ! 
For  my  part,  it  won't  hurt  my  feelings  any  if  they 
work  us  overtime!" 

Well,  this  set  we  went  on  was  a  beauty.  As  far  as 
I  could  make  out  it  was  the  front  of  Paris  in  1770 
or  thereabouts  and  it  certainly  looked  exactly  like  it. 
At  least  I  couldn't  of  told  it  from  the  real  thing.  Alto- 
gether the  set  covered  four  acres,  and  was  composed 
of  streets  and  alleys  and  squares,  bridges,  churches  and 
a  guillotine  which  I  at  first  thought  was  a  sort  of  cross 
bar  for  taking  exercise  on  until  they  told  me  that  the 
only  thing  supposed  to  get  any  exercise  on  it  was  a 
person's  neck. 

Of  course  only  the  tenderloin  side  of  the  buildings 
was  built,  and  you  know  how  they  are  without  my 
describing  them ;  nothing  more  back  of  them  than  most 
oil  stock.  But  what  showed  to  the  naked  eye  of  the 
camera  was  actually  built,  not  just  painted,  and  there 
was  real  cobblestones  on  the  streets  with  stage  grass 
growing  between  because  it  photographed  better.  And 


Laughter  Limited  135 

the  part  I  was  cast  for  was  to  loaf  around  these  streets 
with  a  couple  of  other  girls,  trying  to  vamp  a  bunch 
of  soldiers,  among  which  was  Axel.  I  suppose  this 
was  in  order  to  make  it  seem  like  a  natural  street 
scene. 

Well,  really  it  was  a  beautiful  sight  with  several 
hundred  costumed  extras  floating  around  and  even  be- 
fore Major  McGee,  who  was  directing  Taylor  True- 
man,  Trixie's  husband,  in  the  piece,  come  out  and  called 
things  to  order,  the  set  give  a  fine  illusion  of  reality. 
Not  even  Axel  showing  a  girl  dressed  like  a  antique 
newsboy  how  to  dance  the  camelwalk  could  destroy 
it.  And  that  first  day  of  my  work  for  the  pictures 
was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  happy  of  my  life. 

At  five  o'clock  one  of  the  assistant  directors  yelled 
the  welcome  "Everybody  now  on  this  set  come  back 
at  nine  o'clock  to-morrow!  Nine  o'clock  to-morrow. 
Please  have  your  make-up  on ;  everybody  now  on  this 
set."  And  so  forth  several  times  over  to  be  sure  every- 
body had  heard  it,  but  he  need  not  of  worried,  for 
they  all  heard  the  first  time. 

When  I  was  dressed  again  Axel  was  waiting  for  me 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  leading  down  from  the  big 
barn  of  a  women's  dressing  room. 

"Come  on,  let's  cash  in,"  he  says.  "Aye  want  Aye 
should  buy  you  a  dinner  to-night  at  Frank's  or  some 
place." 

"Oh,  fine!"  says  I.  "Gee,  but  I  am  sick  of  eating 
at  home!" 

Well,  we  laughed  at  that,  but  pretty  soon  it  was 
wiped  from  our  faces  by  bucking  a  little  group  of 


136  Laughter  Limited 

angry  hams  that  had  been  on  the  set  with  us,  but 
which  was  now  standing  around  muttering  to  each 
other. 

"What's  tha  matter?"  Axel  says  as  we  come  up. 

"Matter,  hell !"  says  one.  "They  aren't  giving  any 
checks  to-night.  Bill  says  they  will  work  us  until 
Saturday  night  and  pay  off  then.  But  damn  it,  will 
they?"  ' 

"I've  got  a  good  mind  not  to  pay  any  attention  to 
the  call  for  to-morrow,"  says  another.  And  then  I 
butted  in. 

"Why  surely  they  wouldn't  spend  half  a  million 
dollars  on  a  set  like  that  and  then  not  pay  us !"  I  says. 

"Huh!  Wouldn't  they,  just!"  says  the  girl  I  have 
mentioned  before. 

"How  do  they  think  we  live  in  Los  Angeles?"  says 
another.  "On  credit?  Huh!" 

"Well,  never  mind,  it  means  a  week's  work,"  says  I. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  they  won't  pay,"  says  my  dress- 
ing partner,  "but  they  may  hold  us  up.  If  they  are 
short  of  cash  they  will  take  it  out  of  our  hides.  They 
know  we  don't  dare  to  holler.  There  are  too  many 
more  looking  for  our  place." 

"You  been  doing  this  long?"  I  says. 

"Ten  years!"  she  says  bitterly,  and  walked  away. 

"Come  along  home,"  says  Axel  in  a  low  voice.  "Aye 
don't  like  that  woman.  Did  you  see  how  she  kept 
tryin'  to  squeeze  may  out  of  the  camera  all  afternoon? 
Every  time  we  come  in  front  of  tha  camera  in  tha 
marching  scene,  she  turn  her  head,  so  that  Aye  betchew 


Laughter  Limited  137 

may  life,  may  face  is  entirely  hidden  by  her  hat  and 
she  gets  a  full  close-up  flash !" 

"Oh,  no,  Axel!"  I  says.     "How  mean!" 

"Youst  vait  until  you  see  da  picture,"  says  Axel 
gloomily.  "And  dan  you  see!" 

The  next  two  days  were  still  like  heaven  to  me, 
even  though  Major  McGee  commenced  to  work  us 
nights  as  well,  and  we  would  not  get  off  the  lot  until 
midnight  or  later.  The  major  was  one  of  these  tem- 
peramental directors  that  work  by  fits  and  starts,  and 
everybody  including  himself,  I  guess,  had  to  suffer  for 
it.  Besides  which  he  was  under  the  extra  difficulty 
of  his  star  being  wet  almost  always.  We  would  often 
wait  for  a  hour  or  two  at  a  time,  hanging  around 
doing  nothing,  while  they  was  trying  to  get  Trueman 
sober  enough  to  go  on  working,  or  wet  enough  to  be 
willing  to  work,  according  to  whichever  the  case  might 
be. 

Well,  anyways,  hanging  around  on  a  set  or  a  loca- 
tion by  the  hour  was  no  hardship  to  many  of  us,  pro- 
vided we  eventually  got  paid  for  it.  But  I  was  intent 
on  drawing  down  a  little  something  besides  pay  if  that 
was  going  to  be  possible.  I  wanted  to  act,  and  acted 
as  hard  as  ever  I  could  while  the  acting  was  going, 
hoping  all  the  time  the  major  would  take  notice  of 
me.  I  never  took  my  eyes  off  him  when  he  was  around, 
trying  to  sort  of  hypnotize  him  into  paying  me  some 
especial  attention,  but  it  was  all  no  good  until  the 
day  I  run  into  Anita  Lauber  on  my  way  to  work. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IT  happened  for  some  reason  that  Axel  wasn't  with 
me,  and  I  was  walking  along  the  boulevard  alone 
when  I  heard  Anita's  voice  calling.  I  turned  around 
in  my  tracks,  and  there  slowing  up  at  the  curb  was  a 
baby-blue  automobile  as  big  as  a  bungalow  with  solid 
nickel  wheels,  a  colored  chauffeur,  and  Anita  seated 
alone  in  the  tonneau. 

"Hello,  Bonnie !"  she  says.  "Hop  in  the  boat,  honey, 
and  let  me  drop  you  where  you  are  going.  Hurry, 
dear,  I  got  a  call  for  nine  o'clock." 

"So  have  I,"  I  says  a  little  coldly,  but  getting  in 
with  her  just  the  same.  "At  Artlife!" 

"Stop  at  the  Artlife  studios,  James,"  says  Anita  to 
the  driver.  Then  she  turned  to  me.  "So  glad  you 
are  working,  dear,"  she  says.  "I  was  afraid  after 
that  night  out  at  the  beach  you  would  be  in  thoroughly 
wrong !" 

"Oh,  no!"  says  I.  "It  didn't  hurt  me  any,  I  guess \ 
Where  is  your  call,  Anita?" 

"Why,  I'm  with  Muro!"  says  Anita,  opening  her 
pale  eyes  very  wide.  "Didn't  you  know?" 

"Not  me,"  says  I.    "Whose  boat  is  this?" 

"It's  mine,"  she  says.  "Pretty  poor,  eh?  I'm  get- 
ting three  hundred  a  week  and  I  expect  to  get  seven 
when  this  contract  runs  out." 

"Good  Lord !"  was  the  best  I  could  think  of  to  say. 

138 


Laughter  Limited  139 

Suddenly  Anita  dropped  the  little  silver  box  she 
was  carrying — the  same  one  she  had  unconsciously 
taken  out  of  her  purse  before  on  the  day  of  that 
party,  when  she  talked  to  me  about  going.  Well,  she 
dropped  it  anyways  and  seized  hold  of  my  hands  in- 
stead. 

"Don't  be  sore  at  me,  Bonnie,"  she  says.  "I  like 
you  better  than  any  girl  I  know.  I'm  having  a — a 
wonderful  time  and — and  we  each  got  to  live  our  life 
and  get  our  jobs  in  our  own  way.  But  please  be 
friends  with  me!  I  want  you  to  be  friends." 

"Oh,  Anita!"  I  says.  "Don't  say  it  in  a  tone  like 
that.  It  ain't  fair.  Somehow  you  make  me  feel  so 
sorry  for  you!  But  asking  me  to  be  won't  let  you 
out  of  your  responsibility  to  yourself.  I'll  be  friends 
of  course." 

"This  car,"  she  says  eagerly,  as  if  justifying  herself 
for  something  I  had  not  accused  her  of — "I  have 
bought  it  on  time.  I  will  pay  for  it  out  of  my  salary 
on  installments." 

"Oh,  Anita!"  I  says,  which  may  look  like  a  limited 
expression  but  don't  necessarily  sound  flat  when  you 
come  to  say  it.  And  then  we  was  at  my  studio. 

"Where  are  you  living?"  she  says.  "I  want  to  come 
and  see  you  if  you  don't  mind." 

I  told  her  the  address,  and  said  yes,  do  come,  be- 
cause that  seemed  the  only  thing  I  could  do.  And  then 
I  stood  and  watched  the  beautiful  big  blue  car  drive 
away,  and  laughed  at  myself  to  think  I  had  anything 
to  offer  to  its  near-owner!  I  felt  sick  and  puzzled 
and  worried  again,  the  way  a  person  always  does  when 


140  Laughter  Limited 

they  run  smack  up  against  that  sort  of  thing  in  this 
man's  business.  But  I  didn't  look  after  Anita  long. 
Pretty  soon  I  give  myself  a  good  shake  and  says 
"Here,  B.  McFadden,  you  poor  dumb-bell,  you  are 
in  the  pictures  yourself,  and  ten  a  day  is  sixty  a  week 
and  overtime  every  night  is  one  hundred  and  twenty 
iron  men.  What  are  you  kicking  about?"  And  then 
after  that  I  come  down  to  earth  and  the  long  crowded 
dressing  room,  hurried  on  my  make-up  and  costume 
and  went  out  on  the  set. 

But  meeting  Anita  that  way  give  me  a  depression 
that  kept  hanging  over  me.  I  got  so  absorbed  in  the 
lowdown  I  hardly  knew  what  I  was  doing  on  the  lot 
that  morning  and  when  after  lunch  we  was  held  up 
while  a  party  of  visitors  went  over  the  set  I  at  first  paid 
no  attention  to  them. 

I  ordinarily  would  of  done  so,  however,  because  visi- 
tors on  a  set  where  someone  is  working  is  absolutely 
against  the  laws  of  any  self-respecting  studio  and  never 
allowed  unless  they  are  the  Elks  or  new  capital  or 
something.  I  was  leaning  against  a  cafe  which  is  an- 
tique French  for  saloon,  because  this  picture  was  writ- 
ten before  prohibition,  and  listening  in  a  dumb  sort  of 
way  to  Axel  telling  me  how  Silvermount  was  on  the 
rocks  financially,  which  was  by  now  stale  to  me.  I 
was  more  absorbed  in  saying  to  myself  "I  hate  the  pic- 
tures. How  can  I  get  out  of  them  and  why  did  I  ever 
get  myself  into  such  a  hole,  anyways?"  than  in  listen- 
ing to  him.  Anybody  who  is  in  pictures  does  the  same 
at  least  once  a  week. 

Well,  I  was  standing  that  way,  when  all  of  a  sudden 


Laughter  Limited  141 

I  got  a  jolt  by  Axel  saying  "Look!  That  ban  Benny 
Silvermount  himself  with  tha  party!" 

I  took  a  look  then,  all  right,  and  it  was  not  Big 
Benny  who  caught  and  held  my  attention,  but 
Milton  Sherrill.  Until  I  saw  him  I  didn't  know  any 
man  could  make  my  heart  leap  so,  especially  with 
his  back  turned  toward  me.  But  I  knew  him  at  once 
by  those  square  shoulders,  the  way  he  stood,  and  the 
turn  of  his  head. 

Well,  it  hardly  occurred  to  me  to  wonder  what  was 
he  doing  there  on  our  lot,  he  who  had  the  lowdown  on 
pictures  to  such  a  strong  degree.  With  him  was  Trixie 
Trueman,  and  her  husband,  who  was  in  costume  and 
also  in  liquor  as  per  usual,  the  studio  manager,  Mr. 
Blunt,  and  a  fine-looking  youngish  man,  who  was  of 
course  Mr.  Silvermount,  and  they  was  all  chinning  and 
kidding  along  together  without  more  than  the  merest 
casual  glance  at  us  poor  atmosphere  animals. 

It  was  pretty  plain  to  see  that  Big  Benny  and  the 
Truemans  thought  Milton  a  big  egg,  all  right.  A  queer 
little  stab  went  through  me  as  I  saw  Trixie  sort  of  paw- 
ing him  over  with  her  eyes.  He  looked  like  a  regular 
angel  out  of  heaven  to  me,  and  while  it's  the  truth  I 
would  never  in  a  thousand  years  have  written  to  him 
and  asked  for  the  job  he  had  offered  me  on  the  train, 
seeing  him  made  things  entirely  different.  He  was  my 
reserve.  I  might  get  out  of  this  nasty  mess  of  a  world 
I  was  in,  and  go  to  real  regular  work  that  would  pay 
me  a  real  honest-to-Gawd  salary,  even  if  that  work 
would  never  make  me  rich  or  famous. 

But  I  stood  there  hesitating  while  time  flew.     The 


142  Laughter  Limited 

visitors  was  getting  ready  to  move  along  and  the  major 
and  his  assistants  was  getting  ready  to  shoot.  Then 
I  decided.  I  would  go.  I  would  catch  Milton  and 
ask  him.  The  visitors  all  started  for  the  exit,  he  never 
seeing  me,  and  with  a  big  resolve  strong  in  my  heart  I 
broke  away  from  Axel  and  the  pictures  forever  and 
started  after  him.  Then  all  at  once  the  voice  of  the 
director,  of  Major  McGee  himself,  broke  upon  my  ears 
with  the  very  words  of  which  I  had  dreamed  so  long. 

"Come  here,  little  girl,"  he  says.  "You  with  the 
blond  curls !  I  want  to  speak  to  you !" 

I  stopped  dead  in  my  tracks.  Yes,  it  was  really  me 
he  wanted.  I  watched  Milt  and  the  others  pass  on  off 
the  set  through  a  big  arched  portal  that  was  the 
gate  to  the  City  of  Paris,  and  I  didn't  mind  seeing  him 
go.  I  forgot  every  single  bad  thing  I  had  just  been 
thinking  about  the  pictures.  It  was  my  chance !  The 
major  had  noticed  me.  I  would  get  a  bit,  perhaps  even 
a  small  part.  What  a  poor  weak  fish  I  had  been  to 
doubt  myself  even  for  a  moment ! 

Smiling  I  walked  up  to  the  major  and  he  took  hold 
of  my  chin  and  wiggled  it  while  he  shook  a  finger  at 
me. 

"See  here,  young  woman !"  he  says.  "You  have  on 
a  rotten  make-up.  The  mascara  from  your  eyes  has 
run  down  all  over  your  cheeks.  Don't  let  me  catch 
you  on  my  set  like  that  again.  Jasper!"  he  added  to 
one  of  the  assistants  who  come  by  at  that  moment. 
"Why  the  hell  can't  you  see  that  this  mob  is  made  up 
decently  ?" 

And  that  was  all.    Unlike  some  people  in  pictures, 


Laughter  Limited  143 

I  realize  that  my  public  has  got  imagination,  and  am 
willing  to  leave  it  to  them  how  I  felt  as  I  walked  away. 
All  through  that  afternoon  the  feeling  stayed  right  by 
me,  and  all  through  the  first  part  of  the  night,  too, 
when  we  worked  on  a  fire  set  with  the  vivid  artificial 
lights  making  a  cold  silent  furnace  in  the  very  middle 
of  sleeping  Hollywood. 

Ordinarily  this  working  at  night  under  the  fierce 
glares,  while  the  town  gradually  fell  silent  and  the 
studio  seemed  like  it  was  the  only  place  in  the  world 
that  was  awake,  struck  my  dramatic  sense  and  excited 
me.  But  to-night  nothing  could  of  excited  me.  You 
probably  know  how  it  feels  to  make  a  fool  of  yourself, 
and  I  had  done  it  twice  in  unusually  quick  succession. 
And  then  at  a  little  before  midnight  one  of  them  wild 
rumors  that  circulates  so  swift  and  easy  among  a  crowd 
of  extras  come  alarmingly  to  my  ears  and  was  pres- 
ently confirmed  by  Axel. 

"Aye  youst  hear  we  bane  going  ta  be  paid  off,"  he 
says.  "McGee  bane  through.  They  have  cut  out  some 
sequences  from  tha  picture,  and  it  makes  them  finished 
with  us  to-night!" 

"But  I  thought  he  said  we  would  work  all  next 
week!"  I  objected,  bewildered. 

"What  they  care  for  that?"  he  growled.  "They 
youst  change  their  minds,  that's  all!" 

Well,  that  was  bad  enough.  We  had  all  hoped  for 
another  week.  But  things  got  even  worse  when  up 
bounded  the  woman  who  dressed  next  to  me. 

"The  dogs!"  she  says  in  that  angry  half  whisper 
which  gets  to  be  a  sort  of  natural  voice  with  atmosphere 


144  Laughter  Limited 

people.  "The  dogs !  They  are  only  paying  check  and 
a  half  instead  of  double  check!  The  stingy  brutes!" 

"What  does  she  mean,  Axel?"  I  says  anxiously.  "Is 
it  that  we  only  get  time  and  a  half  for  all  this  over- 
time? Why,  I  thought  of  course  it  would  be  double! 
Everyone  said  so,  even  mommer!" 

"Veil,  get  out  your  contract  and  show  it  and  make  a 
fuss!"  says  Axel  with  a  sickly  grin. 

And  of  course  that  was  a  joke  because  extras  can't 
any  more  get  contracts  than  they  can  get  credit  from 
the  grocer.  Well,  I'll  say  I  needed  that  thirty  which  I 
now  wasn't  going  to  get,  but  I  tried  to  smile. 

"That's  it!"  says  Axel.  "Yoump  along  into  your 
street  things  and  we  go  by  Yohn's  for  a  sandwich  and 
tha  help  of  a  good  strong  coffee !" 

Well,  we  cashed  in  our  check  and  a  half,  and  went 
along  on  our  way,  leaving  a  seething  angry  crowd  be- 
hind us.  We  was  both  pretty  thoughtful,  and  why  not 
with  the  prospect  of  walking  the  weary  next  day  be- 
cause it  was  by  this  time  well  into  Sunday  morning  ? 

In  John's  place  was  the  usual  crew,  some  of  which 
were  awful  wet  and  noisy  and  yelling  for  raw  beef 
sandwiches,  and  others  like  ourselves,  eating  a  little 
something  hot  after  a  hard  night's  work.  The  low- 
ceilinged  room  swam  in  smoke,  both  of  broiling  meat, 
fried-egg  sandwiches  and  cigarettes.  Everybody  come 
there  sometime  or  another,  and  it  was  to  Hollywood  a 
sort  of  super-dog-wagon.  I  don't  know  could  heaven 
of  looked  any  better  to  me  late  at  night  than  John's 
used  to,  and  I  lapped  up  the  food  which  Axel  was  so 
proud  to  buy  me  with  all  the  eagerness  of  one  who 


Laughter  Limited  145 

knows  only  too  well  that  they  will  need  all  of  their 
strength  and  must  preserve  it. 

And  then,  when  we  finished,  we  stepped  out  again 
into  the  starlit,  perfect  California  night  and  commenced 
to  walk  slowly  homewards,  stopping  only  to  buy  a 
couple  of  Sunday  morning  papers  from  a  early  news 
bird,  and  talking  moodily  but  less  so  on  account  of  the 
hot  food. 

When  we  come  to  our  more  or  less  own  front  door 
Axel  stopped  short  and  give  me  a  look  of  horror,  his 
hand  as  if  paralyzed  in  his  pocket. 

"May  Lord,  Aye  forgot  may  key !"  he  says.  "Have 
you  got  your  key,  Bonnie?" 

I  give  a  hasty  look  in  my  bag,  pawing  through  hand- 
kerchief, lipstick  and  etc.  to  no  avail. 

"Of  course  I  haven't  got  it !"  I  says  at  last.  "Nat- 
urally not,  seeing  how  bad  we  need  it !" 

Then  the  two  of  us  give  an  instinctive  look  together 
up  towards  the  landlady's  bedroom  windows.  Mom- 
mer  slept  at  the  back,  worse  luck. 

"Bonnie,  how  much  back  rent  you  owe  her?"  says 
Axel  miserably. 

"Four  weeks,"  I  says  without  having  to  stop  and 
think. 

"Aye  owe  her  six,"  says  he.  "You  better  wake  her 
up!"' 

And  so  it  was  me.  But  two  weeks  or  four  was  all 
the  same  to  Mrs.  Snifter  once  she  was  waked  from  her 
natural  just  sleep!  She  told  the  world  as  she  let  us 
in. 

"Nice  time  of  the  morning  to  came  in,  I  must  say!" 


146  Laughter  Limited 

she  announced  like  we  was  a  side  show  or  something. 
"Disreputable  good-for-nothing  picture  people  up 
drinking  and  dancing  all  night  and  then  expecting  de- 
cent working  folks  to  get  up  out  of  their  sleep  and 
wait  on  them." 

"Oh,  hush,  Mrs.  Snifter,  please!"  I  says.  "You'll 
wake  mommer!" 

"And  what  if  I  do?"  she  shouted.  "What  do  I  care 
if  she  sleeps  on  a  bed  that  ain't  been  paid  for  in  four 
weeks  or  lies  awake  on  it?  It  ain't  only  that  you  ain't 
paid  your  debts,  Miss  Bonnie  Delane,  but  you  have  been 
out  all  night  every  night  this  week.  Yes,  I  know — 
working!  I'll  thank  you  to  either  pay  up  or  get  out 
not  later  than  to-morrow !" 

With  which  hot  one  she  banged  into  her  own  room, 
leaving  me  and  Axel  unable  to  say  one  single  word  on 
account  of  not  being  in  any  position  to. 

When  I  got  into  my  own  room  and  turned  on  the 
light  and  pulled  out  the  bed  and  sat  on  the  edge  of  it, 
to  sort  of  train  it  that  way,  because  I  never  could  learn 
to  trust  it,  well,  I  sat  there  a  few  minutes  having  a  hard 
think. 

Just  exactly  what  was  I  going  to  do?  Nobody  had 
ever  been  able  before  this  to  say  I  owed  them  money, 
and  now  it  was  true.  If  I  gave  Snifter  my  whole  pay 
check  it  would  just  about  square  us  with  her,  but  we 
would  not  be  able  to  eat.  And  there  was  no  prospects 
in  sight.  Adele  was  broke,  I  knew.  I  couldn't  fail 
her,  not  after  all  she  had  done  for  me.  But  we  must 
have  money  quick.  It  was  all  bunk,  the  way  we  kidded 
ourselves  and  got  what  credit  we  could  on  mere  hopes 


Laughter  Limited  147 

and  dreams  and  elaborate  bluffs.  Oh,  I  needed  advice 
and  I  needed  it  at  once. 

When  I  thought  of  this  I  thought  somehow  of  Mil- 
ton Sherrill,  and  getting  up  I  dug  his  photo  out  of  the 
bureau  draw  where  it  had  been  ever  since  I  left  the 
hotel.  I  had  sort  of  forgotten  Milt  until  that  after- 
noon. But  now  I  set  him  up  in  his  place  again  and 
talked  to  that  picture  of  him  just  like  I  used  to  do  back 
home,  and  as  usual  he  give  me  good  advice.  And,  be- 
lieve me,  that's  all  getting  good  advice  ever  is — rea- 
lizing something,  and  facing  it  honest  as  you  can. 

"Milt,"  I  says,  "what  would  you  say  I'd  better  do? 
Go  to  work  at  something?  I  thought  so!  What, 
then?  Anything  honest  to  tide  over  this  crisis?  All 
right!  But  clerking,  which  is  the  only  thing  I  know, 
won't  keep  both  me  and  mommer.  I  won't  write  to 
you,  because  that  would  mean  giving  up  pictures,  and 
I  won't  give  them  up,  but  we  have  got  to  eat.  What 
then?" 

Well,  I  swear  it  seemed  as  if  the  eyes  of  that  photo- 
graph turned.  You  know  the  way  eyes  in  a  real  good 
photograph  sometimes  seem  to?  I  followed  where  I 
thought  they  was  looking  and  saw  the  morning  papers. 
The  Help  Wanted  column,  of  course!  Right  away  I 
picked  it  up  and  started  to  read. 

Now  when  I  come  to  this  part  of  my  story  I  was 
going  to  put  in  what  scenario  writers  call  a  sequence, 
which  is  a  section  of  the  continuity  from  which  a 
movie  is  actually  shot.  And  this  sequence  was  going 
to  show  a  full  close-up  of  me  reading  the  fatal  ad  and 
registering  decision.  Then  a  subtitle  reading  "Next 


148  Laughter  Limited 

Day,"  and  after  that  I  was  going  to  iris-in  to  a  long- 
shot  of  me  going  to  answer  the  ad,  dressed  in  my  very 
plainest  clothes  and  no  make-up.  Then  a  medium 
close-up  of  me  ringing  the  doorbell  of  a  big  house  and 
registering  a  combination  of  timidity  and  despairing 
sacrifice.  The  next  shot  would  be  a  medium  shot  of 
a  interior — the  drawing-room  of  a  home,  with  a  lady 
hearing  a  knock.  Maid  enters.  Lady  registers  "Admit 
her."  Then  a  medium  close-up  of  me  entering.  Then 
a  nine1  foot  shot  of  me  and  the  lady  meeting,  the  lady 
seating  herself  while  I  remain  standing.  And  so  forth. 
But  come  to  think  it  over,  I  decided  this  was  the 
kind  of  a  sequence  which  ought  always  to  be  cut  out  in 
the  first  rushes,  and  discarded,  and  that  its  place  could 
be  very  well  taken  by  a  subtitle  which  would  clearly 
cover  a  time-lapse  and  tell  what  happened  to  me  after 
my  reading  that  ad  in  the  Sunday  paper.  And  if  so, 
the  subtitle  would  read  something  like  this : 

A  week  later  found  Bonnie  Delane  firmly  established 
as  a  domestic  servant  in  the  home  of  Trixie  Trueman, 
the  well-known  motion-picture  star. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

'  I  ^HE  best  way  to  find  out  why  is  it  people  have  so 
•*•  much  trouble  keeping  a  servant  is  to  be  a  servant 
for  a  while  your  own  self,  and  after  I  got  my  job  at 
Trixie  and  Taylor  Trueman's  home  I  soon  decided 
that  the  hardest  thing  to  bear  was  no  regular  hours. 
Whoever  made  up  that  old  quotation  about  a  person 
cannot  burn  the  candle  at  both  ends  had  the  wrong 
dope  because  the  Truemans  burned  not  a  mere  candle 
but  a  whole  electric  dynamo  at  both  ends,  and  in  the 
middle.  Entertain  ?  Sweet  daddy !  Them  Truemans 
entertained  everybody  but  their  servants. 

I  was  maid  to  Trixie  as  well  as  my  other  duties  of 
waitress  and  nurse  to  the  kid,  a  little  girl  of  three.  And 
when  Trixie  had  a  call  at  the  studio  for  nine  in  the 
morning  it  was  me  had  to  force  her  awake,  get  her 
up,  pump  her  full  of  coffee  and  produce  her  tooth 
paint  for  her  to  paint  her  stained  teeth  with,  get  on 
her  make-up,  find  her  pair  of  smoked  glasses  to  save 
her  eyes  from  the  lights,  etc.,  so's  she  could  get  to 
the  lot  in  time  and  also  in  fair  condition.  What  she 
got  from  me  for  seventy  a  month  was  enough,  I'll  say ! 
And  just  think  how  I  used  to  keep  her  on  a  pedestal 
back  home  in  Stonybrook !  I  sometimes  couldn't  realize 
it  for  a  fact. 

The  Truemans'  house  was  a  new  one,  built  in  the 
conventional  wedding-cake  architecture  which  is  so 

149 


150  Laughter  Limited 

popular  in  Southern  California,  and  it  was  out  on 
Santa  Monica  Boulevard,  where  a  lot  of  prominent 
picture  people  was  even  then  building  for  the  greater 
convenience  of  tourists.  The  Milky  Way,  this  part  of 
the  road  was  called,  not  on  account  of  milk  being  the 
principal  liquid  consumed  there,  but  on  account  of  be- 
ing so  crowded  with  stars.  There  was  sleeping  porches 
stuck  all  over  the  house,  French  windows  opening  into 
the  Spanish  patio,  and  an  Irish  swimming  pool.  Well 
anyways,  the  pool  was  lined  with  green  tiles.  And 
since  it  was  out  of  doors  the  blue  sky  reflecting  into  it 
made  a  wonderful  effect,  and  turned  the  water  the 
color  of  a  aquamarine.  This  swimming  pool  was 
the  nicest  thing  out  there,  and  didn't  I  crave  to  get 
into  it,  though!  However,  you  know  what  most  em- 
ployers' attitude  towards  servants  and  bathtubs  is, 
and  this  also  of  course  applied  to  swimming  pools.  I 
used  to  go  down  to  mommer's  on  my  afternoons  off, 
for  mine. 

It  took  considerable  courage,  too,  because  as  soon  as 
Adele  had  me  safe  in  the  tub  she  would  remove  my 
clothes  to  where  I  couldn't  reach  them  very  easy,  and 
give  me  my  semiweekly  bawling  out  for  being  a  servant 
girl.  But  at  the  end  of  each  explosion  she  would  gen- 
erally weaken  and  forgive  me  for  supporting  her  and 
myself  by  this  disgraceful  means,  give  me  my  clothes 
back,  and  leave  me  return  to  my  life  of  sin,  saying 
God  would  reward  me.  And  I  would  say  yes,  I  was 
sure  He  would,  only  I  hoped  He  would  remember 
the  address  was  Santa  Monica  Boulevard  and  not 
wait  for  me  to  come  home  to  heaven  and  collect. 


Laughter  Limited  151 

Adele  absolutely  refused  to  give  up  mommering  me 
and  look  for  a  better  paying  job. 

"Nonsense!"  she  says  when  I  suggested  her  doing 
so.  "Bosh !  Things  will  soon  get  better,  honey !  They 
say  every  cloud  has  a  silver  lining,  but  I  always  say  the 
silver  lining  is  probably  what  makes  the  clouds  wear  so 
good!" 

And  then  I  would  go  back  to  Truemans',  cleaner  in 
more  ways  than  one,  all  refreshed  and  ready  to  earn 
my  salary  and  tips.  And  I  may  say  that  the  tips  was 
no  light  matter,  especially  if  it  was  a  wet  night  in  our 
dining  room,  for  the  girls  would  then  be  awful  gen- 
erous about  retrieving  wraps,  and  sometimes  run  as 
high  as  fivespots.  A  person  would  actually  be  ashamed 
to  take  it,  only  for  realizing  that  if  you  didn't  get  it 
somebody  no  more  worthy  would. 

Such  nights  come  along  pretty  often  at  our  house, 
Trixie,  like  most  picture  people,  preferring  to  entertain 
in  her  own  home  more  than  outside;  and  Taylor  liked 
it,  also.  A  lucky  thing,  because  it  sure  was  less  trouble 
to  carry  him  merely  upstairs  as  soon  as  he  got  thor- 
oughly wet,  than  to  haul  him  all  the  ways  back  from 
some  outside  place  or  other. 

"I  don't  know  how  I  stand  this  life,  Bonnie!"  Trixie 
says  to  me  one  late  afternoon  when  I  was  up  in  her 
bedroom,  brushing  her  lovely  brown  curls  in  prepara- 
tion for  a  big  night.  Trixie  had  the  handsomest  brown 
curls  I  ever  seen  in  my  life — twenty  of  them,  full- 
length,  natural  curl,  and  all  I  had  to  do  when  dressing 
her  hair  was  brush  them  around  my  finger  a  coupla 
times  and  hand  them  to  her. 


152  Laughter  Limited 

"I'm  wore  out,  Bonnie!"  she  says  to  me,  blinking 
hard  not  to  cry  and  start  the  mascara  running  off  her 
eyelashes.  "I  don't  know  can  I  stand  it  much  longer. 
No  more  snow  parties  for  mine !" 

"Why  do  you  go  on  them  ever,  dear?"  I  says,  be- 
cause naturally  after  a  month  in  the  same  house  we 
talked  pretty  intimate,  and  in  fact  she  was  real  hungry 
for  a  friend  of  the  female  sex  that  she  was  not  obliged 
to  keep  up  any  front  before.  "Why  don't  you  cut  out 
the  happy  dust?  Think  of  your  kid,  honey!  Here 
— that's  the  curl  that  goes  on  the  top." 

"I  got  to  keep  going!"  she  says,  taking  it  sadly. 
"And  I  don't  dare  think  about  Jennie.  I  got  to  support 
lier,  haven't  I?" 

"What  about  friend  husband  doing  a  little  of  that?" 
I  says.  "And  whatter  you  mean,  support,  anyways? 
You  two  must  be  drawing  down  enough  kale  to  plant 
a  farm!" 

"Twenty-two  hundred  a  week,"  she  says  mourn- 
fully. "I  don't  know  where  it  goes.  We  are  broke 
all  the  time,  and  the  bills  we  owe!  It's  a  crime!" 

"That's  no  excuse  for  the  dust,  hon,"  I  says,  bring- 
ing her  a  blue  spangled  evening  dress  that  made  her 
look  like  a  sparkling  infant  fairy.  "Why  not  cut  it 
out?  You  know  it'll  kill  you!" 

"I  can't !"  she  says,  getting  up  and  clenching  her  little 
hands.  "You  don't  know,  Bonnie,  what  it  means  to 
work  in  comedy !  They  never  let  you  off  of  playing  it, 
day  or  night.  If  only  I  could  quit  being  my  gay  screen 
self  when  I  leave  the  lot,  but  I  can't.  Why,  what  would 
happen  if  I  didn't  stay  in  character?  They'd  say  I 


Laughter  Limited  153 

was  going  stale,  that's  what,  and  the  rumor  would 
spread  and  spread  until  it  ruined  me!  I'm  a  madcap 
on  the  screen,  so  I  got  to  be  one  off  it  too." 

"Refuse  to  be,"  I  says  briefly. 

"Oh,  that's  a  cinch  to  say!"  says  she.  "But  you 
know  it  can't  be  done.  There  is  always  a  reporter 
around,  or  a  producer  on  the  party,  or  a  director  that's 
set  your  character  for  you,  and  you  got  to  have  a  lot 
of  pep !  At  first  it  was  fun  and  I  didn't  mind.  It  come 
easy  and  natural  to  be  gay  all  the  time.  But  now  I 
been  a  wild  woman  for  six  years  steady,  except  when 
I  was  sleeping — sleeping  under  a  bromide!  And  a 
person's  own  pep  soon  wears  off.  I  have  to  take  some- 
thing to  jazz  me  up,  Bonnie ;  I  have  to,  dear !" 

"Mister  ought  to  do  something  about  it,"  I  says. 
"Oh,  Trixie,  you  got  a  right  to  your  husband's  money 
and  to  his  care.  Make  him  do  it!" 

"Huh!"  says  she,  buffing  her  nails  like  she  wished 
they  was  his  face.  "Huh!  Fat  chance!  He  and 
Tommy  has  just  taken  a  bungalow  up  in  Laurel  Canon. 
You  know  what  that  means.  They  think  I  don't  know 
it,  but  a  wife  has  always  got  a  friend  to  come  and  spill 
that  sort  of  dirt  to  her!  And  as  for  money,  do  you 
know  how  much  he  give  that  bootlegger  yesterday? 
Fifteen  hundred,  cash!  And  me  obliged  to  hock  my 
diamonds  to  meet  the  installment  on  our  ne\v  car! 
Happy  dust?  Liquor?  Why  not,  Bonnie,  why  not?" 

"Oh,  hon,  every  reason  why  not!"  I  says,  and  then 
Trixie  heard  her  husband  yelling  in  the  hall  for  her 
to  hurry. 

So  she  took  a  shot  out  of  the  lovely  silver  flask  on 


154  Laughter  Limited 

her  dresser,  and  beat  it  down  to  her  gay  dinner  party. 

I  went  on  up  to  my  own  room,  feeling  kind  of 
groggy  in  the  other  sense,  the  way  I  always  did  after  a 
talk  like  that,  which  we  were  having  them  more  and 
more  frequent.  The  funny  part  was,  I  couldn't  get 
sore  at  Trixie.  She  was  a  kid  at  heart,  and  so  refined- 
looking,  but  without  any  real  brains  or  training,  and 
she  was  caught  in  a  kind  of  trap.  That  is  what  suc- 
cess had  meant  to  her — a  trap. 

Well,  I'll  say  I  was  learning  something  about  the 
moving-picture  business  every  day,  even  if  I  wasn't  at 
a  studio !  And  one  of  the  lines  I  decided  on  was  that 
I  would  never,  no,  never,  lose  my  bean  like  the  True- 
mans  had,  and  throw  my  money  away.  Which  it  was 
of  course  easy  to  say  while  I  was  not  even  in  the  pic- 
tures as  yet,  and  I  was  as  safe  making  that  resolve  as 
a  millionaire  socialist  in  declaring  for  a  soviet  in 
America. 

Keeping  open  house  the  way  they  did  the  Truemans 
naturally  kept  it  in  the  open  part,  meaning  in  the  patio. 
And  for  the  benefit  of  those  that  don't  understand 
Spanish,  let  me  explain.  A  patio  is  to  a  house  what  the 
hole  is  to  a  doughnut.  In  other  words,  the  house  is 
built  around  it,  with  the  patio  left  open.  The  swimming 
pool  was  right  square  in  the  middle  of  it,  and  the 
dining  room,  parlor  and  den  all  opened  out  on  it  direct. 
There  was  a  palmetto  growing  in  one  corner  of  it,  and 
a  orange  tree  in  the  other,  while  green  Spanish  tiles 
grew  all  around  the  edge.  Sitting  in  the  nursery  win- 
dow of  a  Sunday  afternoon  Jennie  and  me  could  see 
all  of  it  pretty  plain,  and  read  our  book  of  fairy  stories 


Laughter  Limited  155 

which  I  had  bought  her  on  account  of  her  never  having, 
until  I  come  into  the  house,  heard  of  Goldilocks  or 
Little  Red  Riding  Hood,  and  I  think  it  is  wrong  not 
to  teach  a  kid  those  great  truths. 

Also,  sitting  there  I  could  recall  how  when  I  first 
come  West  I  had  thought  that  maybe  some  day  I  would 
be  at  the  swimming-pool  parties  of  some  big  egg,  and 
then  I  would  think  well,  here  I  am!  Well  anyways, 
we  could  sit  there  and  see  the  party,  and  I  could  also 
see  the  bell  rung  for  me,  if  anyone  rang  it.  Every 
Sunday  things  would  go  pretty  nearly  the  same. 

About  11.30  Tom,  who  was  Taylor  Trueman's 
dresser,  would  bring  out  a  big  table  and  set  it  with 
half  a  dozen  bottles  of  Scotch  and  rye  and  bowls  of 
ice  and  a  dozen  or  so  glasses  and  siphons,  cigarettes 
and  a  percolator  of  coffee,  and  then  everything  would 
be  ready  for  Sunday  dinner.  Everything  but  the  host 
and  hostess,  anyways. 

The  guests  would  commence  to  float  in  early.  Reg- 
ulars, mostly,  some  already  in  bathing  suits  under  a 
wrap,  and  some  at  once  walking  into  the  bath  house 
and  borrowing  the  first  suit  they  seen  there.  They 
would  stroll  around  the  place,  swimming  a  few  strokes, 
sunning  theirself  afterward,  highball  and  cigarette  in 
hand,  and  then  after  a  while  Trixie  would  appear  in 
her  one-piece,  and  after  a  little  more  of  a  while  Taylor 
would  show,  and  they  would  all  play  like  kids,  talking, 
splashing,  smoking,  drinking,  and  so  forth  and  so  on, 
and  on,  and  on,  a  new  record  on  the  phonograph  for 
every  new  drink.  Then  by  sunset  they  would  just 
merely  move  into  the  house  itself,  and  continue.  Some 


156  Laughter  Limited 

Sunday  dinner !  But  then  of  course  if  you  are  in  pic- 
tures you  must  not  eat  too  much  for  fear  of  gaining. 

Well  anyways,  one  particular  Sunday  that  I  am 
telling  you  about,  I  got  to  watching  the  crowd  circu- 
late, and  I  didn't  notice  how  little  Jennie  had  got  away 
from  me  until  I  seen  her  dancing  across  the  patio 
below,  chasing  Fluff,  the  small  white  dog  belonging 
to  my  boss.  At  the  same  moment,  almost,  who  should 
come  in  the  door  but  Anita  Lauber,  and  with  her  that 
chunky  blond  play  writer  and  director,  Jack  Blum,  with 
whom  she  was  chatting  like  they  was  intimate  friends. 

The  sight  of  Anita  in  that  house  give  me  a  jolt, 
I'll  tell  the  world !  It  didn't  seem  fair,  somehow,  that 
she  should  be  there  as  a  guest,  when  everybody  knew 
about  her  character,  and  here  was  I,  a  mere  servant! 
Something  in  me  got  up  and  yelled  in  silent  protest; 
yelled  it  hard.  And  any  girl  which  was  raised  in  New 
England,  where  they  would  rather  die  than  be  a 
servant,  will  understand.  Was  there  really  no  penalty 
for  going  on  the  loose  in  that  crowd  ?  Did  everything 
get  by?  Would  nobody  snub  you  or  shake  a  cold 
shoulder,  no  matter  what  a  girl  did  ?  I'll  say  it  looked 
that  way! 

Anita  was  dressed  beautiful,  in  blue  satin  sports 
clothes.  She  had  snap  to  every  inch  of  her.  I  looked 
down  at  my  black  dress  and  white  apron,  and  Lord, 
how  I  hated  my  job  at  that  minute! 

No  use  in  telling  myself  what  I  knew  to  be  the  fact — 
that  those  people  down  there  in  the  patio  was  not  the 
real  topside  picture  people;  not  in  the  class  with  Mary 


Laughter  Limited  157 

and  Doug  and  Charlie  and  their  set,  or  in  the  class 
with  the  great  writers  like  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Greyton,  or 
so  forth,  and  that  therefore  I  was  every  bit  as  good 
as  them  and  etc.  I  felt  menial  and  ashamed  of  it,  yet 
could  only  set  there  wrapping  my  hands  in  my  apron 
and  hoping  to  heaven  Anita  and  Blum  would  go  away 
soon,  although  that  was  hoping  against  too  much,  for 
they  had  brought  their  bathing  suits. 

"Sweet  daddy,"  I  thought,  "I  suppose  the  ocean  is 
now  too  vulgar  for  Anita  to  wash  in  it,  that  she  has  got 
to  come  here !" 

Trixie  had  never  spoke  of  Anita,  but  they  kissed 
when  they  met,  so  they  must  of  met  once  or  twice 
before.  Funny,  but  Milton  Sherrill  was  the  only  one 
I  had  thought  of,  and  dreaded  meeting  in  the  True- 
mans'  house,  and  Trixie  had  told  me  she  had  never 
seen  him  before  or  since  that  day  on  the  DuMas  Pear 
set.  I  had  never  even  dreamed  of  seeing  Anita  there. 

Well  anyways,  just  as  Anita  had  got  hold  of  a  high- 
ball and  I  had  got  hold  of  myself  a  little  better,  that 
beast  of  a  small  white  dog  of  ours  had  to  go  and  jump 
into  the  pool  with  all  its  fur  on,  so  of  course  Jennie  had 
to  jump  in  after  it  with  all  her  clothes  on. 

Right  away  there  was  a  lot  of  grief  from  below  and 
my  bell  started  ringing  like  mad.  Seeing  the  kid  in  the 
water,  I  jumped  up  and  ran  downstairs.  I  had  to. 
And  at  that  very  instant  the  front  door  opened  and  in 
come  Greg  Strickland. 

While  I  stood  there  paralyzed,  from  the  other  way 
come  Anita,  waving  her  highball  at  me  frantically,  and 


158  Laughter  Limited 

down  the  center  charged  Trixie  Trueman,  holding  out 
a  wet  and  screaming  child  to  me,  the  child  holding 
out  a  wet  and  barking  pup. 

One  of  the  strangest  things  in  the  world  is  the  way 
we  keep  thinking  our  friends  is  less  decent  than  we 
are ;  less  kind  or  generous,  and  always  having  that  first 
blind  instinct  of  mistrust. 

The  very  moment  I  had  clasped  that  wet  dog  and 
child  to  my  bosom,  and  stood  hugging  them  and  trying 
to  comfort  the  two  of  them,  while  Trixie  disgustedly 
wiped  a  few  drops  of  water  off  the  front  of  her  bath- 
ing suit  with  a  lace  handkerchief — well,  at  that  very 
minute  I  realized  I  had  done  Anita  a  injustice.  I  had 
expected  she  would  pretend  not  to  recognize  me,  and 
here  she  was  as  glad  to  see  me  as  could  be. 

"Bonnie  darling!"  she  cried,  running  up  and  giving 
me  a  kiss  across  my  wet  armful.  "So  this  is  where 
you  been  hiding!  Look  at  the  cap  and  apron!  My 
heaven,  have  you  gone  cuckoo,  or  what?" 

"Good  Lord,  Bonnie !"  says  Stricky,  turning  first  red 
and  then  white.  "Say  listen!  You  have  stuck  it  out 
in  your  own  way,  haven't  you?" 


CHAPTER  XV 

T  COULDN'T  stand  any  more,  but  turned  and  run 
-*•  upstairs  with  the  dog  and  the  baby.  Somehow  the 
minute  I  seen  Stricky,  all  his  terrible  charm  swept  back 
over  me.  He  upset  me  from  the  roots,  so  to  speak, 
and  it  was  a  kind  of  attraction  that  give  me  more 
worry  than  pleasure.  I  hated  him,  I  disapproved  of 
him,  I  had  good  cause  to  mistrust  him,  and  yet  when 
I  come  face  to  face  with  him,  all  I  could  think  was 
how  handsome  he  was.  So  I  ran.  In  a  minute  Trixie 
was  after  me,  helping  with  the  kid  for  once  in  her  life, 
but  talking  like  a  whirlwind  as  she  done  so. 

"Whatter  you  want  to  let  them  hand  me  a  haymaker 
like  that  for,  Bonnie?"  she  says.  "Why,  Anita  Lauber 
says  you  are  a  wonderful  actress,  a  regular  knockout, 
and  that  you  got  a  big  future.  Why  didn't  you  tell 
me,  dear?" 

"I'm  not !"  I  says.  "I  only  want  to  be !  And  I'd  been 
out  of  a  job  so  long " 

And  then  we  done  considerable  kissing  and  crying, 
as  might  of  been  expected  of  women,  and  when  the  kid 
was  dry  and  the  dog  ditto,  nothing  would  satisfy 
Trixie  but  that  I  should  come  down  to  the  patio  and 
have  a  celebration  held  over  me. 

"Ain't  we  got  fun  ?"  Trixie  shouted  to  the  crowd  as 
she  dragged  me  down  without  even  letting  me  take  off 

159 


160  Laughter  Limited 

my  apron.  "Here  I  been  employing  a  angel  unawares, 
so  to  speak!" 

And  greatly  to  my  surprise,  Stricky  backed  her  up. 

"You  got  right,  Trixie,  old  dear!"  he  says.  "She's 
a  little  saint,  as  I  know  to  my  sorrow.  She's  got  an 
idea  that  it  is  possible  to  get  into  the  pictures  without 
a  friend." 

Well,  if  looks  could  of  murdered,  the  one  Trixie 
flashed  him  should  of  knocked  him  cold.  She  drew 
herself  up  with  pride,  and  took  hold  of  my  hand. 

"She's  right,"  says  Trixie  hotly.  "It  is  possible  to 
get  in  without  a  pull  if  you've  got  friends  to  help  you. 
And  I'm  going  to  help  Bonnie.  Hey,  take  a  good  look 
at  her,  Stricky.  Do  you  see  what  I  see  ?" 

Stricky  stared  at  me  hard  for  a  moment,  and  then 
he  gave  a  long  whistle. 

"Ain't  she  just  the  type  Nickolls  is  looking  for?" 
Trixie  demanded.  "What  we  were  talking  about  yes- 
terday?" 

"You  said  it!"  says  Stricky.     "Of  course  she  is!" 

"What's  this?"  I  says.  "Am  I  a  type,  or  something?" 

"You  are,"  says  Trixie.  "And  I'm  going  to  lead 
you  down  to  the  studio  in  the  morning  and  show  you 
to  Nicky.  It's  for  the  piece  Stricky  is  acting  in  with 
me.  We  just  commenced  making  it,  and  we  need  a 
girl  that  won't  cut  in  on  me  any,  see  ?  A  utterly  differ- 
ent type  from  me  for  contrast,  and  somebody  who 
won't  ask  for  their  name  on  the  bill,  because  I  wouldn't 
stand  for  that,  of  course.  Nicky's  had  a  bunch  of  them 
up,  because  he  always  does  his  own  casting.  But  nat- 
urally, when  I  am  the  star,  I  pass  on  the  girls,  and  none 


Laughter  Limited  161 

of  these  have  got  by  me.    You'll  do,  if  Nicky  O.  K's 

you." 

"Oh,  Trixie — honest?"  I  gasped. 

"You  been  awful  good  to  me  and  Jennie,  hon,"  says 
she.  "And  now  I  can  repay  it,  that's  all !  You  won't 
mind  doing  a  slavey,  while  I  wear  the  clothes,  will 
you?" 

"Why  say !"  I  says  with  my  first  real  laugh  in  some 
time.  "That'll  only  be  casting  us  in  character,  won't 
it  ?  Just  let  me  at  a  chance  to  act,  that's  all !" 

That  night  I  couldn't  go  to  sleep,  even  after  the 
noise  in  the  patio  had  died  away.  I  just  lay  there  on 
my  narrow  bed  up  under  the  roof,  and  drank  in  the 
wonder  smells  and  sounds  of  the  night;  the  odor  of 
eucalyptus  leaves  burning  or  dried,  the  odor  of  oil  and 
the  thump  of  the  oil  pumps,  the  odor  of  cedar  logs 
burning.  The  Coast!  The  Coast!  Magic! 

And  tomorrow  Nickolls,  the  stern,  hard-lipped 
young  director.  Would  I  get  by?  To  play  in  a  pic- 
ture with  Trixie  and  with  Stricky!  And  so  Stricky 
was  an  actor  now !  He  was  playing  the  juvenile,  op- 
posite Trixie.  I  must  have  made  a  mistake  about 
Stricky.  He  was  charming,  he  was  kind.  Anita  had 
said  I  would  have  to  pay  to  get  into  the  pictures.  Anita 
was  mistaken.  You  could  go  straight,  even  in  Holly- 
wood. You  could  have  kind  women  friends  who  would 
help  you.  How  pleased  mommer  would  be.  So  pleased, 
dear  mommer!  I  would  telephone  her  if  I  got  by. 
No  more  needless  disappointments  for  mommer.  If  I 
made  good  she  would  know.  If  I  made  a  flop  why  tell 
her?  And  Anita.  How  white  she  was,  with  her  little 


162  Laughter  Limited 

silver  box  dangling  from  her  wrist.  I  knew  what  was 
in  it  now.  Happy  dust  Poor  Anita.  And  so  forth. 

I  am  supposed  to  be  thinking  all  of  the  above,  see? 
I'm  laying  there  and.  dreaming,  only  awake,  and  those 
are  the  things  which  kept  going  through  my  head,  in 
a  kind  of  confused  cloud. 

The  next  morning,  when  it  finally  come,  didn't  seem 
a  whole  lot  more  real  than  these  dreams  I  have  been 
describing.  I  put  on  my  synthetic  tailor  suit  which 
mommer  had  reconstructed  for  me,  and  Trixie  took  me 
along  on  her  ten  o'clock  call. 

Well,  only  a  person  which  had  gone  through  what  I 
had  at  Silvermount  can  imagine  fully  how  I  felt  driv- 
ing up  to  the  main  entrance  of  the  lot  with  Trixie  True- 
man  in  her  big  yellow  roadster  and  parking,  nose  in, 
right  between  Nickolls'  shabby  old  Colby-Droit  that 
everybody  knew  but  nobody  laughed  at,  and  Benny 
Silvermount's  bright  new  foreign  car  with  its 
queer  special  body.  Class?  I'll  say  so!  Scared  as 
I  was  I  could  not  help  but  get  quite  a  kick  out  of  even 
that  simple  thing,  not  to  mention  that  when  we  went  in 
the  lobby  the  girl  behind  the  little  window  smiled  all 
ovei  her  map,  touched  a  button  in  haste — and  the 
door  wearing  the  Keep-Out — This-Means-You  sign, 
flew  open  to  let  I  and  Trixie  through. 

The  Silvermount  lot  now  seemed  like  Paradise  or 
something  tc  me,  with  its  well-kept  patches  of  lawn 
and  flowering  trees  and  bushes  between  the  enormous 
buildings.  I  gaped  around  at  the  stages,  which  many 
of  them  are  three  or  even  four  hundred  feet  long,  and 
at  the  massive  technical  department  and  laboratory, 


Laughter  Limited  163 

where  they  develop  the  fillums  and  etc.,  and  cut  out 
your  best  footage  when  you  are  not  looking.  And 
also  at  the  wardrobe  building  and  the  high-class  dress- 
ing-room house  that  had  a  six-hundred-foot  front. 
And  many  other  features  and  advantages,  which  I  took 
in  with  awe,  for  all  the  architecture  was  pretty  much 
on  the  same  style  as  a  lot  of  Greek  temples  turned  into 
something  useful,  if  you  can  imagine  what  I  mean. 

Trixie  being  used  to  them  paid  no  attention  to  these 
wonders,  but  at  once  grabbed  me  by  the  arm  and  started 
dragging  me  off  towards  where  a  man  was  standing 
under  a  fig  tree.  His  back  was  to  us,  and  he  was  en- 
tirely absorbed  in  absorbing  figs.  He  was  dressed  in 
corduroy  riding  breeches,  and  soft  shirt  with  the 
sleeves  rolled  up,  and  a  wrist  watch,  the  national  cos- 
tume of  motion-picture  directors  since  time  immemo- 
rium.  And  he  was  some  fig  eater,  for  he  would  reach 
up,  pick  a  fig  off  the  topmost  branch,  split  it  open  with 
one  squeeze,  bite  its  heart  out  and  throw  away  the 
skin  all  in  about  one  second. 

And  it  wasn't  until  we  was  almost  up  to  this  savage 
that  I  realized  he  was  the  great  John  Austin  Nickolls, 
and  when  I  did  realize,  no  kidding,  I  begun  to  worry 
for  fear  he  might  bite  my  head  off,  the  same  as  a 
fig,  for  I  remembered  the  first  day  I  seen  him,  when 
he  roared  at  poor  Axel  like  a  dog  because  Axel  had 
stopped  to  speak  to  me. 

But  I  need  not  of  been  so  afraid,  after  all,  for  when 
he  turned  around  and  saw  it  was  Trixie  he  give  her  the 
sweetest  smile  I  ever  seen,  and  shook  his  big  mat  of 
yellow  curls  like  a  friendly  dog. 


1 64  Laughtei  Limited 

"Hello,  hellcat/'  he  says  real  pleasant.  "How's 
tricks?" 

"Pretty  good,  all  but  my  head !"  says  she. 
"Wish  you  had  invited  me!"  he  says  with  a  grin. 
"Do  I  get  introduced?"  he  went  on,  looking  at  me, 
interest  springing  up  sudden  in  his  keen  blue  eyes. 

"My  friend  Miss  Delane,"  says  Trixie.  "I  thought 
she  might  do  for  my  foil  in  The  Mischief  Maker.  What 
about  it?" 

"I'm  glad  tc  meet  you,  Miss  Delane,"  says  Nickolls 
in  quite  a  new  voice;  a  sincere,  musical  voice,  with  a 
high-class  genuine  English  accent.  "Indeed  1  believe 
I'm  going  to  be  exceptionally  glad  tc  meet  you." 
"Pleased!"  I  managed  to  gulp. 
But  I  liked  him  right  away.     He  looked  to  be  real 
all  the  way  through.    Something  in  me  recognized  him. 
I  don't  know  any  other  way  to  tell  what  I  mean.     I 
didn't  fall  in  love,  not  then  nor  ever,  with  him.    But  I 
knew  him  right  away. 

"Isn't  she  the  type  ?"  says  Trixie.  "She's  a  friend  of 
mine.  I  can  work  with  her,  I  know."  Then  she  whis- 
pered in  his  ear,  but  I  couldn't  help  but  hear.  "Cheap !" 
she  says.  "And  you  know  how  Benny  is  acting  about 
salaries  just  now !" 

He  nodded  and  kept  on  looking  at  me  thoughtfully. 
And  of  course  that  made  me  stand  awkward  and  look 
awkward,  not  to  mention  feeling  ditto.  But  there  was 
nothing  personal  in  the  way  he  give  me  the  up  and 
down.  Then  he  smiled  again,  that  wonderful  smile. 
"Had  any  experience,  Miss  Delane?"  he  says  so  sud- 
denly that  I  give  a  jump. 


Laughter  Limited  165 

For  a  second  I  was  going  to  shoot  him  the  conven- 
tional "Oh,  lots,"  when  some  instinct  made  me  change 
my  mind.  In  the  face  of  the  first  real  man  I  had  met 
in  this  business,  except  Rolf,  why  I  just  plain  decided 
I  would  be  real  too.  I'd  take  a  chance. 

"No,"  I  blurted  at  him.  "Practically  none.  Atmos- 
phere and  a  few  amateur  theatricals." 

"Well,  I  see  you're  not  a  liar,  anyway,"  says  he 
cheerfully,  as  though  that  was  a  sign  of  hope.  "I 
wonder  if  you  can  act,  and  whether  you  screen?  Ever 
had  a  test  made  that  we  could  see  ?" 

"No,"  says  I. 

He  got  silent  again,  looking  at  me  and  scratching  his 
curls  first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the  other. 

"Well,"  he  says  at  last,  "she  really  is  the  type  for  that 
slavey.  Pretty,  but  no  doll.  If  she  can  act  a  comedy 
part  I Hey,  Joe!" 

A  man  was  crossing  the  next  path  to  us,  but  at  this 
call  he  stopped  and  come  back. 

"Say,  Joe,"  says  Mr.  Nickolls,  "is  there  anybody 
working  on  Number  Four?  No?  Fine!  Say,  just 
take  a  camera  over  there,  will  you!  I  want  to  make 
a  test." 

I  don't  really  know  how  I  got  to  Trixie's  dressing 
room,  but  somehow  I  did,  she  laughing  and  pulling  me 
by  the  arm.  When  I  come  to  from  the  shock  I  was 
seated  in  front  of  her  enormous  lace-trimmed  dress- 
ing table,  putting  on  make-up.  And  in  such  a  dressing 
room !  Pink  taffeta  curtains  and  pink  satin  furniture, 
and  a  gray  velvet  rug.  A  tiled  bathroom  beyond  on 
one  side,  and  on  the  other  side,  near  the  head  of  the 


166  Laughter  Limited 

stairs,  a  sitting  room,  belonging  to  Trixie,  too,  also  in 
rose  silk  and  gray  velvet.  Nickolls  was  walking  up 
and  down  in  there  throwing  cigarette  ashes  on  the 
floor  and  playing  the  elegant  phonograph  that  was 
hidden  in  the  base  of  a  big  gold  lamp  with  a  Jap  silk 
shade.  Nickolls  was  waiting  for  me! 

I  heard  him  yell  down  to  somebody  on  the  lot  to  run 
over  on  his  set  and  tell  them  he  would  be  a  few  min- 
utes late.  On  my  account!  Sweet  daddy!  I  could 
hardly  manage  to  get  ready,  fumbling  among  Trixie' s 
things,  which  included  dead  roses,  two  half -empty 
bottles  of  Scotch,  and  a  spilled  ounce  of  twenty-dollar 
perfume  which  hung  heavy  in  the  air.  My  head  reeled 
with  it  and  with  excitement.  Then  at  last  I  was  all 
set. 

"You'll  do,  dear !"  says  Trixie,  and  then  we  all  went 
down  the  stairs  and  across  to  Number  Four  Stage. 

Next  thing  I  knew  Nickolls  give  me  a  few  instruc- 
tions and  then  his  business  voice  was  yelling. 

"Lights!"  he  says.  "Camera!  Now  come  in,  Miss 
Delane!  Walk  across!  Open  that  door!  Horror! 
More  horror!  That's  right!  Slam  the  door!  That'll 
do!  Now  go  back  and  come  in  again.  Cross  to  the 
window  and  see  something  funny  in  the  street  below. 
Now  somebody  is  coming  upstairs,  and  you  have  no 
business  in  this  room.  They  will  catch  you!  Hide 
under  the  table.  That's  it !  That's  it !  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha ! 

Ho,  ha Oh,  that's  great!  That's  great!  You're 

a  scream,  kid,  you're  a  scream !  If  that  screens  for  a 
cent  you're  hired !  You're  hired !  That's  enough !" 

The  lights  went  off,  and  still  Nickolls  was  wiping  his 


Laughter  Limited  167 

eyes  and  laughing  and  wiping  them  again.  Trixie, 
who  had  stuck  by,  turned  to  me,  and  her  manner  had 
something  funny  the  matter  with  it. 

"Don't  overdo  it,  hon!"  she  says,  kind  of  sharp. 
Then  she  turned  on  her  director.  "Well,  Nicky !"  she 
says.  "I  never  got  a  laugh  like  that  out  of  you!  I 
hope  you  enjoyed  yourself !" 

"I'll  say  I  did !"  says  he.  "And  I'm  much  obliged  to 
you  for  bringing  her.  We  will  look  at  the  test  at  the 
morning  rushes.  Now  don't  get  sore,  cutie ;  she  will  be 
a  great  little  foil  for  your  beautiful  black  hair." 

Trixie  smiled  at  him,  her  peeve  vanishing  quick  as  it 
had  come,  as  was  her  usual  way.  Then  Nickolls  stepped 
over  and  took  both  my  hands  in  his. 

"I  hope  to  God  you  screen !"  he  says  solemnly.  "Be- 
cause if  you  do  we  sure  can  work  together.  I  can't 
ask  you  to  see  the  test  tomorrow,  because  that  is  against 
our  rules  here.  We  like  to  be  absolutely  free  to  com- 
ment, you  know.  But  I'll  telephone  you  the  result. 
Good-by!" 

I  walked  away  on  air,  while  Trixie  of  course  went 
off  to  work.  Back  at  her  house  I  did  my  chores  as 
usual,  but  they  didn't  seem  real  or  anything  like  it. 

The  Truemans  didn't  come  home  to  dinner  that 
night,  but  blew  in  with  a  noisy  crowd  around  two 
o'clock  and  turning  on  the  electric  piano,  danced  until 
somewheres  around  four.  Maybe  that  was  what  made 
Trixie  so  sore  and  short  with  me  when  I  helped  her  to 
dress  the  next,  or  rather  I  should  say,  the  same  morn- 
ing. Not  a  word  out  of  her  about  anything  Nickolls 
might  of  said,  or  anything !  So  I  let  her  alone,  aside 


168  Laughter  Limited 

from  dressing  her,  and  when  she  had  gone  off  to  the 
studio  I  faced  a  morning  of  worry  the  equal  of  which 
I  have  never  endured  before  or  since. 

You  see  I  didn't  even  know  what  rushes  was,  or 
when  they  might  happen.  Of  course  I  have  since  found 
out  that  rushes  are  the  shots  which  have  been  made  the 
day  before,  and  which  are  developed  and  shown  to  the 
director  and  department  heads  and  sometimes  to  the 
star,  just  as  they  come  on  the  reel  of  fillum,  not  even 
cut  into  rough  continuity.  And  the  object  of  this  first 
showing  is  merely  to  see  is  the  photography  any  good. 
Then  next  day  the  takings  of  the  previous  day  is  by 
now  in  rough  continuity,  and  is  shown  again,  and  so 
on,  the  improvements  of  one  day  being  shown  the  next 
until  it  is  complete,  along  with  the  daily  new  raw  shoot- 
ings which  the  directors  bring  in.  It  is  a  sort  of  end- 
less chain,  a  mill,  through  which  a  picture  is  ground  to 
the  accompaniment  of  scathing  remarks,  criticism  and 
suggestions  from  the  heads. 

The  cutter  and  a  stenog  sits  there  under  a  shaded 
lamp  and  takes  it  all  down,  and  then  they  carry  the 
fillum  back  to  the  laboratory  and  make  the  changes  and 
improvements  and  etc.  The  usual  fillum  will  be  run  at 
least  twenty  times  by  the  heads  before  it  is  O.K.'d.  And 
it  is  at  these  rushes,  which  are  generally  pulled  off  be- 
tween twelve  and  one  on  most  lots,  that  a  test  is  gener- 
ally shown. 

And  well,  all  I  can  say  is  that  if  I  had  that  morning 
known  as  much  about  the  rush  hour  as  I  do  now  I 
would  not  of  lived  to  be  writing  this!  Sweet  daddy, 
I  would  of  been  too  nervous !  I  would  not  even  of  had 


Laughter  Limited  169 

strength  to  stagger  to  the  telephone  when  at  last  it  rang 
at  i  :  15.  I  hardly  made  it,  anyways.  I  was  so  shot 
with  excitement  I  could  hardly  pluck  the  blue  silk  doll 
off  that  phone  to  answer  it.  And  then  when  I  did,  over 
the  wire  come  Nickolls'  voice. 

"Test  was  a  big  hit,  Miss  Delane,"  says  he.    "Could 
you  run  right  down  to  my  office  and  talk  over  terms  ?" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

"^"ICKOLLS,"  says  Greg  Strickland,  leaning 
^^  against  the  steeple  of  the  Metropolitan  Tower 
— "Nickolls  is  in  a  class  by  himself." 

"Yeh!  He'd  have  to  go  a  long  ways  back  before 
he  met  anyone,"  I  says,  sitting  down  on  a  corner  of 
Trinity  Churchyard,  which  happened  to  be  alongside 
of  it.  "And,  he  sure  does  shake  a  wicked  megaphone !" 

We  had  been  working  three  weeks  on  The  Mischief 
Maker,  I  at  one  hundred  berries  a  week,  and  I'll  say 
earning  it  too.  But  for  the  moment  I  had  put  down  the 
scrub  brush  and  mop  and  pail  of  suds  which  was  the 
principal  ingredients  of  my  costume,  and  Strick  and 
I  was  parked  on  a  jumbled-up  discarded  New  York  set, 
waiting  for  our  call  while  Nicky  struggled  with  our 
star.  Trixie  was  playing  a  legitimate  part  for  the  first 
time,  and  he  was  sure  handling  her  wonderful. 

"Say  listen,  Bonnie,  you  are  no  slouch  in  this  pic- 
ture yourself !"  Stricky  declared. 

"Huh!"  says  I,  because  that  was  the  most  cutting 
remark  I  could  think  of. 

"Really  you  are  a  wonderful  actress,"  says  Stricky 
earnestly.  "And  you've  got  a  big  future !" 

Well,  of  course  that  is  the  best  compliment  one  per- 
son in  Hollywood  can  pay  another,  and  so  I  weakened 
a  little  toward  him. 

"Why  do  you  keep  away  from  me  all  the  time,  Bon- 

170 


Laughter  Limited  171 

nie?"  he  says  then.  "Do  you  realize  that  this  is 
actually  the  first  time  you  have  given  me  the  chance 
to  speak  to  you  alone?  What's  wrong,  eh?" 

For  a  moment  I  was  knocked  so  cold  by  that  I 
couldn't  answer.  And  then  I  found  my  voice  and  went 
right  for  him. 

"After  all  the  grief  you  made  for  me,"  I  says,  "you 
dare  to  pull  a  line  like  that!  After  the  lies  you  told 
me  to  get  me  out  here!" 

"What  lies  ?"  says  Stricky.  "What  are  you  getting 
at?  I  told  you  that  you  could  get  seventy-five  a  week 
in  pictures,  and  you  are  getting  a  hundred !" 

"That's  so,"  I  had  to  admit.  "But  it's  not  the  point. 
You  get  me  perfectly !" 

"I'd  give  anything  in  the  world  to  get  you !"  he  says, 
lowering  his  voice.  "Bonnie,  I'm  simply  cuckoo  about 
you!" 

The  follow-up  I  had  all  prepared  died  on  my  lips. 
Stricky  was  playing  a  sort  of  light-heavy  part  in  this 
piece,  and  with  his  make-up  of  smart  afternoon  clothes, 
his  hair  like  varnished  leather,  the  powder  on  his  face 
giving  it  the  smooth  beauty  of  a  child's,  he  was  enough 
to  wreck  anybody's  peace. 

"You  are  going  to  be  a  big  hit,  girlie,"  he  went  on. 
"And  worth  a  lot  of  money.  Everybody  on  this  lot  is 
strong  for  your  work.  You  ought  to  of  heard  old 
Benny  himself  at  the  rushes  yesterday.  He  stood  up 
and  hollered." 

"Oh,  Stricky!"  I  says. 

"I  know  I've  been  a  sort  of  a  rotter  in  some  ways," 
Stricky  went  on,  "but  after  all,  you  would  never  have 


172  Laughter  Limited 

come  out  here  except  for  me.  And  if  I  exaggerated 
about  myself  a  little  back  in  Stonybrook,  it  was  because 
I  was  wild  over  you,  even  then.  You  are  going  far, 
girlie,  and  I  don't  want  you  to  leave  me  behind." 

"I  won't,  Stricky,"  I  says,  all  milk  and  water  inside 
myself.  "You  know  I  won't.  And  I  will  be  friends 
from  now  on." 

"I'll  make  you  more  than  friends,  sweetheart !"  says 
Stricky. 

And  then  he  kissed  my  hands  and  dropped  them. 
And  get  this — there  was  no  camera  on  us,  either!  It 
was  romance  with  a  capital  Row,  all  right!  Every 
bitter  thought  or  feeling  I  had  about  him  was  wiped 
out,  and  the  old  attraction,  which  I  had  been  fighting 
off  all  this  time,  come  back  with  a  rush.  But  we 
couldn't  say  anything  more  just  then  because  Nickolls 
come  roaring  up,  his  curls  shaking  with  excitement  like 
a  angry  lion's  mane. 

"Why  the  Silvermount  doesn't  go  broke  is  more  than 
I  can  tell !"  he  growled.  "Here  I  ask  for  a  camel  for 
the  Egyptian  sequence  for  ten  this  morning  sharp,  and 
what  happens?  Is  the  camel  here?  No!  He's  out 
on  a  lecture  tour  with  the  Blue  Law  Boobs,  or  some- 
thing! Anyway  nobody  knows  anything  about  him. 
The  blessed  saints  preserve  us !  We  are  paying  Trixie 
three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  working  day,  and  be- 
cause some  ass  forgot  to  get  the  camel  she  can't  work ! 
Not  to  mention  the  rest  of  you.  It  makes  me  sick !" 

"Thank  heaven  it's  not  my  money !"  says  Strick. 

"Bah !"  says  Nicky.  "The  same  thing  runs  through 
every  detail  of  the  business.  And  then  I  catch  hell  from 


Laughter  Limited  173 

the  office  because  it  costs  a  hundred  thousand  dollars 
to  make  a  fifty-thousand-dollar  picture!  Look  at  yes- 
terday too !  Two  hundred  atmosphere  people  at  ten  a 
day  each,  on  that  ballroom  set  from  nine  in  the  morn- 
ing until  3 :  30  in  the  afternoon,  and  not  a  foot  of 
film  could  be  shot  because  the  fuses  went  blooey,  and 
the  electricians  were  all  somewhere  else!  Then  when 
I  actually  got  fuses  in  again,  the  crowd  looked  so 
dog-tired  that  I  will  probably  have  to  make  the  scene 
over  when  I  see  the  rushes!" 

"Why  don't  you  tell  them  at  the  office?"  I  says. 

"Tell  them,  hell !"  says  he.  "What's  the  use,  when 
jobs  are  given  out  through  friendship  instead  of  on 
a  basis  of  merit  ?  How  long  will  it  last  ?  Heaven  only 
knows.  Art  is  a  business,  little  Bonnie,  and  until  the 
producers  find  that  out  they  will  have  only  this  half- 
satisfactory  hybrid,  that  is  art  by  accident  and  business 
by  luck!" 

"But  I  thought  art  was  all  loose  ends,  Nicky,"  I 
says.  "Meals  any  old  time,  getting  up  late,  acting  as  you 
please,  and  being  generally  unreliable." 

"Say  listen,  child !"  says  he.  "What  have  you  been 
doing  these  last  few  weeks?  Getting  to  bed  early, 
coming  on  the  lot,  rested,  at  nine  prompt.  Sometimes 
at  eight.  Working  like  a  slave  all  day  and  going  home 
dead  to  the  world.  Right  ?" 

I  nodded. 

"A  chore!"  says  he.  "That's  what  it's  been!  A 
tiresome  grind.  Playing  the  same  scene  over  and  over, 
waiting  around  with  your  nerves  and  your  patience 
almost  worn  out.  Yes?  And  if  you  haven't  produced 


174  Laughter  Limited 

one  of  the  finest  bits  of  art  I  ever  saw  I'll  eat  the 
film.  Art,  little  Bonnie,  means  working  like  hell." 

"Well,  thanks  of  course,"  I  says.  "But  who  is  to 
blame  in  most  pictures,  Nicky  ?" 

"Easy  money  is  to  blame,"  says  he  gloomily.  "That 
is,  if  any  one  thing  is  to  blame.  Pictures  are  so  big. 
It  takes  so  many  people  to  make  a  picture.  The  story- 
writer,  the  scenario  editor,  the  continuity  writer,  direc- 
tor, architect,  builders,  electricians,  the  actors  of  course. 
The  chap  who  writes  the  titles,  the  technical  man  who 
cuts  the  film.  It  is,  in  my  opinion,  absolutely  impos- 
sible to  state  that  any  one  of  these  people  is  most  re- 
sponsible for  the  merit  of  the  finished  product.  The 
only  person  in  the  outfit  whose  relation  to  the  picture 
is  absolutely  defined  is  the  producer — the  man  in  the 
office — the  money  man.  And  he  is  nothing  in  the 
world  but  a  middleman.  The  rest  of  us  are  all 
merging,  constantly.  We  are  indispensable  strands 
of  the  same  web.  It  would  fall  apart  without  any 
one  of  us,  you  see.  There !  Let's  go  eat,  and  by  the 
time  we  are  through,  that  damn  camel  may  have 
shown  up !" 

So  I  and  Strick  and  the  boss  went  and  ate  avacado 
salad  and  cofTee  in  the  big  cafeteria  across  the  way, 
because  we  was  naturally  all  of  us  dieting,  even  myself, 
now  that  I  was  in  the  pictures,  for  although  I  had  not 
put  on  any  weight,  mommer  was  already  insisting  on 
me  not  taking  any  chances. 

Well  anyways,  there  we  sat  and  dieted  amidst  all 
the  other  dieting  hams  and  camera  men  and  authors 
and  atmosphere  and  so  forth,  both  in  costume  and  out, 


Laughter  Limited  175 

with  the  clatter  of  knives  and  plates  and  the  usual  blue 
haze  of  cigarette  smoke  of  both  sexes,  but  my  mind 
was  not  on  what  I  was  doing. 

I  couldn't  help  but  realize  how  true  every  word 
Nicky  had  spoke  was,  now  that  he  had  mentioned  it. 
Right  away  I  could  think  of  a  dozen  people  on  our  lot 
who  was  there  because  of  being  somebody's  sweetie 
or  cousin  or  particular  friend.  Why  even  I  myself  was 
there  because  of  Trixie  having  brought  me  and  said 
I  was  a  friend  of  hers.  And  if  I  had  made  good,  why 
that  was  a  mere  happy  accident.  Not  that  Nicky  would 
of  hired  me  if  I  had  been  a  clown,  because  Nicky  was 
one  of  them  magnificent  exceptions  to  the  rule  in  pic- 
tures that  have  saved  pictures  from  the  scrap  heap. 
But  generally  speaking  it  would  of  been  that  way. 

And  naturally  I  thought  then  of  Axel,  who  had  been 
hounding  me  to  introduce  him  to  Nicky.  Axel  was 
a  natural-born  extra,  and  hadn't  the  brains  to  be  any- 
thing else  ever.  Not  that  he  knew  it,  of  course.  And 
for  a  few  moments  I  thought  "Well,  now  I  am  in  an 
awkward  jam."  A'nd  then  I  decided,  "Well,  this  is  a 
exceptional  case.  Axel  has  been  an  awful  good  friend 
to  me  and  I  really  owe  him  something.  So  what  harm 
to  bring  him  on  the  lot  and  introduce  him  to  Nicky 
and  simply  say  nothing  about  him  except  only,  'This 
is  a  personal  friend  of  mine,  he's  got  a  big  future  and 
etc.  and  anything  you  can  do  for  him,  why  I  will  ap- 
preciate it  ?' ' 

Well  anyways,  after  lunch  the  camel  had  come,  but 
it  was  so  late  that  Nicky  says,  "Go  on  home,  little  Bon- 
nie, you  are  not  in  the  camel  sequence  and  we  will  not 


176  Laughter  Limited 

get  around  to  your  bit  to-day."  Which  is  far  more 
consideration  than  most  directors  show,  and  they  will 
usually  let  you  wait  around  just  on  general  lack  of 
principle. 

Well,  I  went  home,  like  he  said,  feeling  very  glad  and 
happy,  because  now  I  had  somebody  to  moon  over, 
and  every  girl  needs  it,  and  Stricky  sure  could  vamp 
me  when  he  tried. 

Also  I  was  glad  to  go  home  to  mommer,  even  if  we 
was  still  living  in  that  horrible  place  on  Vine  Street 
with  Mrs.  Snifter.  Mommer  had  insisted  that  we 
should  stay  on,  because  of  it  being  so  cheap. 

"Until  we  buy  you  a  decent  wardrobe,"  says  Adele, 
"this  is  where  we  stay,  and  the  money  goes  on  your 
back.  They  say  clothes  don't  make  the  man,  but  I 
always  say  hats  of  a  feather  flock  together." 

And  that  ended  any  moving  for  the  present.  One 
luxury  Adele  did  allow  us,  though;  and  that  was  a 
phonograph.  To  be  sure  it  was  merely  a  fifty-dollar 
one,  and  the  only  period  case  it  had  was  the  Install- 
ment Period,  but  she  got  also  some  Ai  jazz  numbers 
for  it,  and  I  felt  it  kind  of  established  us  in  a  com- 
munity where  no  phonograph  was  almost  a  bigger  dis- 
grace than  no  toothbrush. 

Well  anyways,  this  day  I  am  telling  you  about,  I 
come  home  from  the  studio,  and  rushed  up  the  stairs 
to  the  tune  of  Kick  Me  Around  on  the  Hardwood,  the 
sweet  strains  of  which  was  eliminating  from  our  flat 
and  phonograph,  and  found  that  mommer  had  a  sur- 
prise for  me.  Mommer  always  had  a  surprise  for  me, 
even  if  it  was  only  a  please-remit  slip,  but  as  a  general 


Laughter  Limited  177 

rule  it  was  a  hot  spice  cake,  a  new  veil  or  a  jar  of 
some  sort  of  make-up  specialty  that  she  thought  would 
improve  me.  And  this  time  the  surprise  was  my  own 
name  in  print. 

"Look,  dear !"  she  says  the  very  minute  I  got  inside. 
"See  what  I  cut  out  of  Wid's  and  also  from  the  Mirror 
this  morning!" 

And  it  was  this  way  that  I  seen  my  first  press  no- 
tices. Some  notices,  they  was,  too!  Sweet  daddy! 
No  others  has  ever  looked  so  big  to  me.  And  this  is 
what  they  says: 

Among  the  cast  supporting  Trixie  Trueman  in  The 
Mischief  Maker,  a  comedy  by  Harold  Greyton,  which 
will  be  the  charming  little  star's  next  release,  are  Helen 
Strowell,  Robert  Strickland,  Ellen  More,  Tom  Wells, 
Bonnie  Delane,  Hick  Trowbridge  and  the  famous  Silver- 
mount  collie  dog,  Snap.  The  picture  is  being  directed  by 
John  A.  (Nicky)  Nickolls. 

Quite  a  long  notice,  I'll  say !  And  the  fact  that  both 
notices  was  exactly  alike  and  had  therefore  probably 
been  sent  out  from  the  Silvermount's  own  office  hung 
no  crepe  in  my  young  life !  I  was  in  the  paper,  in  the 
professional  trade  papers,  and  that  was  enough  for  me. 
And  when  on  top  of  all  this  momm°r  actually  produced 
the  same  identical  clipping  from  that  very  morning's 
Lost  Angeles  Times'  motion-picture  column,  I  felt  like 
a  million  dollars. 

"Oh,  mommer!"  I  says.  "I'm  really  in!  Now 
watch  me  soar !" 

"I'd  rather  see  you  driving  a  tin  lizzie  along  a  safe 
road  at  fifteen  an  hour,"  says  mommer,  "than  to  see 


178  Laughter  Limited 

you  go  up  in  any  aeroplane.  You'd  stay  where  you  was 
going,  longer." 

A  day  or  two  later  Adele  and  Axel  and  me  read 
another  kind  of  notice  yet,  and  it  come  out  of  a  news- 
paper which  a  person  couldn't  see,  nor  put  their  hands 
on  it,  but  which  is  a  real  news  sheet,  just  the  same, 
and  one  is  published  on  every  lot,  I'll  say  it  is!  And 
by  this  I  mean  that  invisible  daily,  The  Lowdown, 
which  spreads  news  around  in  motion-picture  circles 
probably  more  quickly  than  in  any  other  branch  of 
life.  When  anything  big  happens  on  a  lot  everybody 
knows  it  in  advance  as  you  might  say.  And  it's  a 
funny  thing  how  often  these  lowdown  rumors  will 
turn  out  to  be  correct. 

It  was  a  press  notice  of  this  brand  that  Axel  handed 
us  at  breakfast  one  morning  when  The  Mischief  Maker 
was  all  but  finished.  There  was  a  couple  of  retakes 
to  be  made  and  then  we  would  be  through.  I  say 
"we"  because  Axel  was  by  now  working  in  the  pic- 
ture on  account  of  my  having  introduced  him  to  Nicky 
and  Nicky  had  of  course  hired  him — for  the  atmos- 
phere crowd.  Nicky  had  merely  talked  to  Axel  for 
three  minutes  and  then  said,  "Yes,  I  can  use  you  in 
the  ballroom  scene,"  in  a  tone  which  left  no  hope. 
Nicky  was  certainly  different  from  most  directors,  even 
then. 

Well  anyways,  Axel  was  working  for  Silvermount, 
and  as  usual  mommer  was  giving  both  of  us  a  7 :  30 
hot  cup  of  coffee  before  going  to  work,  just  like  in  the 
old  days,  when  Axel  sprung  his  piece  of  informa- 
tion. 


Laughter  Limited  179 

"Ay  understand  you  ban  Big  Benny's  best  bet  now, 
Bonnie,"  says  Axel. 

"That  so?"  says  I.  "Fat  chance,  Axel!  Why,  I'm 
just  a  feeder  for  Trixie.  I've  seen  the  rushes,  and  I 
dunno — they  look  rotten  to  me.  I'm  a  fright  in  the 
make-up.  Dirty  servant  girl." 

"Ay  heard  the  camera  feller,  Joe,  say  you  bane 
absolutely  something  new." 

Mommer  and  I  exchanged  a  significant  female  look 
at  that,  because  being  considered  something  new  is 
going  some  in  pictures.  Axel  went  on. 

"Ay  heard  you  ban  offered  a  six-picture  contract," 
says  he.  "Ay  hear  every  place  you  ban  in  strong. 
Nickolls  wanted  your  name  should  be  on  the  cast  but 
Trueman  got  sore.  Ay  tank  you  walk  away  with  tha 
picture  sure,  Bonnie." 

Again  mommer  and  me  exchanged  a  wireless.  Of 
course  we  knew  that  I  had  made  pretty  good,  and  in 
the  rushes  I  had  seen  that  I  had  done  about  what  they 
wanted  of  me.  I  had  stumbled  over  pails  of  water, 
fallen  off  of  stepladders,  cooked  a  bowl  of  pet  goldfish, 
and  other  humorous  incidents  until  it  was  a  wonder 
I  had  a  bone  left  in  my  body,  and  me  with  no  personal 
insurance  either. 

I  had  done  all  this  without  cracking  a  smile  before 
the  camera;  and  indeed  why  would  I  smile?  But 
Nicky  seemed  to  think  it  was  wonderful  that  I  didn't, 
because  naturally  every  time  I  got  hurt  the  rest  of  the 
people  on  our  set  including  Nicky  himself  would  set  up 
a  roar.  Right  up  to  the  end  of  the  picture  I  kept  my 
face.  Then  when  I  heard  the  bad  news  at  the  end  of 


180  Laughter  Limited 

the  story,  why,  I  smiled.  The  smile  you  all  know  so 
well. 

Well  anyways,  I  had  tried  to  do  what  they  wanted, 
as  I  say.  But  up  to  now,  with  the  job  all  but  finished, 
nobody  had  even  delicately  hinted  at  a  reengagement. 
Not  a  soul  had  murmured  that  sweet  word  "contract" 
in  my  willing  ear,  and  so  far  as  I  knew,  by  the  end 
of  the  week  I  would  again  be  admiring  the  boulevards 
from  morning  until  night. 

"That's  a  swell  contract  you  tell  about,  Axel,"  says 
I.  "But  it's  a  stranger  to  me.  Where  do  you  get 
this  dope,  eh?" 

"Pretty  straight,"  he  says.  "A  fellar  told  may  that 
Joe  told  him,  and  Joe,  he  bane  got  it  from  Ed,  tha  op- 
erator of  tha  head's  private  projection  room.  Ed 
heard  Big  Benny  told  tha  production  manager  to  tell 
Nickolls  to  sign  you  up." 

"Oh,  dearie,  I'll  bet  you  it's  true!"  says  mommer. 
"Why,  that's  first-hand,  almost!  Now  if  they  send 
for  you,  send  for  me  first !  Be  sure  to,  Bonnie.  When 
I  was  Helena  Holman's  mother  it  was  me  got  her 
twice  the  money  they  offered  her  at  first.  Always  take 
your  mother  with  you,  hon,  when  you  go  about  a  con- 
tract, and  look  perfectly  blank  and  round-eyed  while  I 
talk.  There  is  something  about  a  picture  actress' 
mother  makes  producers  fairly  sick  the  very  minute 
they  see  her  coming,  and  they  at  once  give  better  terms 
in  despair." 

"Sweet  daddy,  I  only  hope  you  have  the  chance  to 
scare  'em !"  says  I.  "But  I  don't  know.  I  have  already 
got  the  I'm-almost-out-again  blues." 


Laughter  Limited  181 

But  Axel  was  pretty  near  right.  For  that  very  day 
things  began  to  move  for  me,  and  move  fast. 

I  was  on  the  lot  early,  all  made  up,  bucket  of  suds, 
mop,  rumpled  hair  and  all,  for  the  retake  of  a  long- 
shot.  This  was  being  left  to  a  boy  named  Louie,  one 
of  Nicky's  assistant  directors.  It  was  an  unimportant 
shot  which  had  merely  had  something  wrong  in  the 
background,  or  Nicky  would  of  done  it  himself,  but 
this  day  he  didn't  appear  to  be  at  the  studio.  Well, 
we  went  out  on  the  location,  Louie  and  me,  and  he 
made  the  retake  a  couple  of  dozen  times  on  account  of 
being  desperately  afraid  of  not  pleasing  Nicky  and  con- 
sequently shooting  about  six  hundred  feet  in  order  to 
get  a  sixty-foot  scene. 

And  when  we  come  in  around  noon  I  was  only  too 
glad  to  crawl  up  to  my  little  cubby  of  a  dressing  room 
and  change,  my  mind  less  on  my  art  than  on  a  glass 
of  milk  and  a  chicken  sandwich. 

I  was  just  reveling  in  the  thought  of  them  the  way 
a  person  will,  when  Eddie  the  call  boy  knocked  on  the 
door  and  says  I  am  wanted  on  the  phone  and  I  went, 
thinking  probably  it  was  mommer  to  say  "Don't  for- 
get to  stop  for  the  laundry  on  your  way  home,"  or 
some  such  excitement.  But  when  I  says  "Yes,  it  is 
me  speaking,"  this  is  what  I  heard. 

"Miss  Delane,  this  is  Mr.  Silvermount,"  says  the 
voice. 

Well,  naturally  for  a  minute  I  was  jolted  and  then  I 
come  down  to  earth. 

"Oh,  sure  it  is !"  I  says,  thinking  of  course  it  was 
Stricky  or  somebody  trying  to  be  funny.  "Yes,  Benny 


182  Laughter  Limited 

dear,  I  suppose  you  are  offering  me  a  contract  or  some- 
thing !  Well,  I  couldn't  accept,  thanks,  unless  it's  very 
good.  Mtiro  and  everyone  is  showering  me  with 
offers,  kid !" 

"1  got  no  doubt  of  it,"  says  the  voice,  kind  of  dry 
and  shortlike.  "But  I  guess  you  and  me  can  arrange 
satisfactory  terms,  Miss  Delane,  if  you  drop  around 
by  my  office  about  2  :  30  this  afternoon." 

"My  dear  Mr.  Silvermount!"  I  says,  very  affected. 
"I  rully  don't  know  do  I  care  to  continue  acting  at  all ! 
Say,  child,  I'd  rather  you'd  offer  me  a  real  lunch  than 
a  fake  contract !" 

"Say,  Miss  Delane,  are  you  crazy,  or  what?"  says 
the  voice.  "There  is  nothing  fake  about  this  contract 
and  I  got  it  a  luncheon  engagement  already." 

A  terrible  cold  sensation  come  over  me  at  that.  I 
don't  believe  I  ever  felt  sicker;  no,  not  even  when  I 
had  the  measles. 

"Don't  tell  me  you  really  are  Mr.  Silvermount?"  I 
says  weakly. 

"Who  else?"  says  the  voice  impatiently.  "And  you 
can  come  at  2 : 30  or  not,  just  as  you  please." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

/"T~VHE  receiver  was  hung  up  with  a  snap,  and  I  stag- 
-*-  gered  back  to  my  dressing  room  calling  myself 
fool,  idiot,  nitwit,  and  all  the  other  uncomplimentary 
names  I  could  think  of,  but  getting  mighty  little  com- 
fort out  of  doing  so.  I  had  sassed  the  Big  Egg  him- 
self, the  one  person  on  the  lot  which  everybody  was 
afraid  of  and  treated  with  respect.  My  heaven,  I  had 
called  him  Benny!  I  had  called  him  kid! 

What  should  I  do?  That  was  the  point.  If  I  went 
to  the  office  at  2 : 30  very  likely  I  would  be  politely 
kicked  out.  As  a  matter  of  plain  fact  the  more  I  looked 
at  the  jam  I  was  in  the  clearer  it  seemed  to  me  that  I 
had  wrecked  my  chance  of  ever  working  for  Silver- 
mount  again.  There  would  be  no  good  trying  to  ex- 
plain, the  conversation  had  been  too  kind  of  natural 
for  that.  If  only  it  had  been  any  person  in  the  world 
except  Big  Benny,  the  sacred,  the  upstage  iceberg  of 
the  picture  world !  Sweet  daddy,  some  grief ! 

Slowly  I  got  dressed,  forgetting  I  had  ever  been 
hungry  and  put  all  my  mind  on  getting  home  and 
telling  mommer.  Oh,  boy,  it  would  take  courage,  for 
what  she  would  say  to  me  would  be  enough !  And  then 
just  as  I  was  ready  to  leave,  that  fresh  Eddie,  the 
w.k.  call  boy,  called  again,  and  this  time  he  had  a  pack- 
age for  me. 

183 


184  Laughter  Limited 

Well,  naturally  I  thought  "Here  is  that  make-up  I 
ordered,"  because  it  was  that  sort  of  a  neat  kind  of 
bundle,  and  I  come  pretty  near  not  opening  it.  But  then 
I  thought,  "Well,  I  will  get  out  that  lipstick;  I  really 
need  it,"  and  untied  the  string;  and  there  inside  was 
not  the  make-up  at  all,  but  the  cutiest  Kewpie  doll  I 
ever  seen.  It  was  dressed  like  a  bride,  mostly  veil  and 
smile,  and  for  a  second  I  pretty  near  forgot  my  troubles 
when  I  seen  it.  Then  I  opened  the  note  which  lay  on 
top  of  it,  and  forgot  my  trouble  entirely  if  temporarily. 
The  present  was  from  Stricky. 

"Dear  B.,"  he  wrote  on  his  card.  "Just  saw  this  and 
thought  of  you.  Hope  you  will  like  it.  Will  you  eat 
with  me  at  Marcelle's  to-night  at  seven?  Devotedly 
Stricky.  P.  S.  I  hear  you  are  signing  up  to  be  fea- 
tured by  Silvermount.  Congratulations !" 

My  heart  just  pumped  like  an  oil  well,  with  richness 
and  pleasure.  Dear  Stricky !  How  cute  of  him  to  think 
of  me  and  send  me  such  a  beautiful  present!  I  done 
the  doll  up  again  and  tucking  it  under  my  arm  started 
for  home  in  a  far  better  state  of  mind  when  who  in  the 
lower  entrance  hall  would  I  bump  into  but  Nickolls. 

"Hello  there,  little  Bonnie,"  says  he.  "Where  are 
you  going  with  that  shining  face  ?" 

"Oh,  my  Lord,  does  it?"  I  says  anxiously,  feeling 
for  my  powder  rag. 

"No,  no;  your  nose  looks  as  if  you  had  been  smell- 
ing a  flour  barrel !"  he  says,  laughing.  "Come  on,  walk 
as  far  as  the  corner  of  the  boulevard  with  me.  I  have 
an  important  conference  luncheon  over  at  Frank's  or 
I'd  run  you  home." 


Laughter  Limited  185 

"That's  all  right,"  I  says,  trotting  along  beside  him. 
"I'd  rather  walk.  I'm  reducing!" 

"Good  girl,  keep  full  of  health!"  says  he  approv- 
ingly. "For  you  are  going  to  need  it.  Tell  me,  little 
Bonnie,  have  you  heard  anything  from  Silvermount 
today?" 

"Yes!"  I  gasped.  "He  asked  me  to  come  to  the 
office  after  lunch." 

"Hum !"  says  Nicky,  putting  on  his  lion  expression. 
"I  thought  likely.  Made  any  agreement  with  him?" 

"No,"  I  says,  so  full  of  grief  I  couldn't  even  go  into 
details. 

"I  am  going  to  ask  something  of  you,  Bonnie,"  he 
says,  seriously  after  a  little  wait,  during  which  we 
reached  the  corner  of  Hollywood  Boulevard.  "I  am 
going  to  suggest  that  no  matter  what  kind  of  an  offer 
Silvermount  makes  you  this  afternoon,  you  won't  close 
with  him  until  after  you  have  seen  me.  What  time  is 
your  appointment  ?" 

"Two-thirty,"  I  says.  "But  I  don't  believe  he  will 
offer  me  anything  except  the  air." 

"Oh,  he'll  make  a  proposition  of  some  kind,"  says 
Nicky,  still  like  a  lion.  "But  stall  him  off  until  tomor- 
row. Then  when  you  leave  his  office,  beat  it  right  on 
up  to  my  bungalow,  will  you?  And  bring  your  mother." 

"Sure !"  I  says,  bewildered. 

"One  more  thing,"  says  he.  "Just  don't  mention 
me  to  Benny,  please." 

"All  right,  Nicky,"  I  says.    "So  long." 

And  then  he  crossed  over  and  joined  a  bunch  of  men 
in  front  of  Frank's  place,  and  I,  hugging  my  doll, 


186  Laughter  Limited 

skipped  on  down  to  Vine  Street  to  ask  mommer  what 
was  what. 

At  2 :  30  prompt  that  afternoon,  I  having  received 
not  alone  my  chicken  sandwich  and  etc.  but  a  good 
bawling  out  from  Adele  for  being  such  a  boob,  we 
both  turned  up  at  Mr.  Silvermount's  office.  I  was 
that  paralyzed  over  what  I  had  done  I  couldn't  of  pos- 
sibly spoke,  even  to  announce  myself.  But  fortunately 
mommer  was  not  the  type  that  is  easily  let  out,  and  so 
she  says  "Mr.  Silvermount,  by  appointment"  to  the 
girl  in  the  outer  office,  with  all  the  manner  in  the  world. 
The  girl  got  through  typing  what  she  was  typing,  wrote 
our  name  on  a  form,  and  says  "Be  seated,"  so  we  were, 
while  she  opened  a  big  carved  teakwood  door  into  the 
temple,  and  by  and  by  come  out  and  says  Mr.  Silver- 
mount  would  see  us  in  a  few  minutes. 

Well,  believe  me,  if  them  few  minutes  didn't  seem 
as  long  as  any  spent  in  a  dentist  office!  People  came 
and  went,  carrying  papers  and  hustling,  very  busy. 
Finally  a  tall  thin  man  come  out  with  a  big  cigar, 
biting  on  it.  He  went  into  the  room  opposite  and 
slammed  the  door.  Then  the  girl  at  the  desk  got  up  and 
opened  the  teakwood  for  us. 

"All  right !"  she  says,  and  I'll  bet  from  her  cheerful- 
ness she  used  to  work  for  a  dentist,  at  that.  "All  right, 
Mr.  Silvermount  will  see  you  now." 

In  we  went,  mommer  sailing  right  ahead  like  a  full- 
blown ship.  Mr.  Silvermount  was  sitting  at  the  far 
end  of  a  enormous  plush  office,  behind  a  big  shiny  desk 
with  everything  on  it  but  work,  so  I  suppose  he  had  it 
there  as  a  kind  of  fortress.  Anyway  it  was  awful  large 


Laughter  Limited  187 

and  heavy,  with  a  space  under  it  where  he  could  seek 
the  protecting  company  of  the  wastebasket  in  extreme 
cases.  When  he  caught  sight  of  mommer  I  thought  at 
first  he  was  going  down  to  see  was  the  wastebasket 
really  there,  but  changed  his  mind  and  wiggled  his 
cigar  at  us  fiercely,  instead. 

"Sit  down,  sit  down,"  he  says  with  his  thumbs. 
"Have  a  chair,  do!" 

"Thank  you,"  says  I.  "This  is  mommer,  Mr.  Sil- 
vermount." 

"So  I  guessed!"  says  he.  "Pleased  to  meet  you, 
Mrs.  Delane.  Well,  I  suppose  it  is  you  will  do  the 
talking,  eh?" 

"Not  at  all,  dear  Mr.  Silvermount,"  says  mommer 
smoothly.  "I  guess  we  can  leave  that  to  you.  I  just 
come  along  to  keep  my  little  girl  company.  My  daugh- 
ter is  so  young,  Mr.  Silvermount,  only  sixteen,  and  I 
never  leave  her  go  anywheres  alone.  And  so  talented, 
Mr.  Silvermount,  too.  Why,  when  she  was  a  child, 
her  professors  used  to  say  to  me " 

"That's  all  right,  what  they  said,  Mrs.  Delane,"  says 
Big  Benny,  waving  my  past  to  one  side  like  it  had  been 
cigar  smoke — which  was  about  what  it  was.  "What 
they  said  don't  interest  me  any,"  he  says.  "Beside 
which,  she  can  say  plenty  for  herself.  You  should  of 
heard  her  on  the  phone  this  morning!" 

Well,  I  turned  black  and  white  at  that,  I  guess,  but 
I  needn't  of,  because  all  of  a  sudden  Mr.  Silvermount 
slapped  the  desk  and  broke  out  laughing  so  hard  he  had 
to  take  the  cigar  out  of  his  mouth. 

"Mrs.  Delane,  your — er — daughter  sassed  me  some- 


188  Laughter  Limited 

thing  awful!"  he  says  as  soon  as  he  could  speak  again. 
"It  was  the  first  time  anyone  outside  of  my  wife  has 
spoke  to  me  nachural  in  years !  I  thought  I  would  die 
laffing.  Oy !  Ain't  we  got  fun  ?" 

"Sweet  daddy!"  I  says.  "I  didn't  mean — honest, 
Mr.  Silvermount " 

"Don't  you  worry !"  he  says.  "I  like  a  girl  who  can 
stand  on  her  own  feet.  Now  listen.  I  got  you  here 
because  I  might  consider  making  you  an  offer.  Mind, 
I  don't  want  you  to  get  any  nonsense  in  the  head  about 
you're  a  wonder,  or  anything.  But  I  seen  the  work 
you  done  in  The  Mischief  Maker,  Miss  Delane,  and 
I  think  with  time  and  hard  work  we  can  make  an 
actress  out  of  you!" 

Believe  me,  I  sat  on  the  edge  of  my  seat  then,  all 
ready  to  jump  at  anything  he  should  say.  But  mommer 
held  me  back  with  a  look. 

"Now.  I  am  prepared  to  sign  Bonnie  up,"  Silver- 
mount  went  on,  "for  a  five-year  contract  at  the  same 
salary  she's  been  getting  for  this  last  picture.  And 
what  is  more,  I  will  feature  her  in  a  new  line  of  com- 
edies. She'll  get  paid  only  when  working,  of  course. 
But  I'll  write  into  the  agreement  that  she  is  to  make 
not  less  than  five  pictures  a  year." 

Well,  even  now  I  can  hardly  imagine  my  own  feel- 
ings when  I  heard  this.  Five  years !  With  the  great 
Silvermount!  Featured!  Why,  it  was  too  good  to 
be  true!  Then  I  remembered  my  promise  to  Nicky, 
and  nearly  give  a  groan  aloud.  Suppose  I  held  out  and 
then  for  some  reason  Mr.  Silvermount  changed  his 


Laughter  Limited  189 

mind  and  I  lost  this  wonderful  chance?  Mommer, 
however,  never  turned  a  eyelash,  but  rushed  right  at 
him. 

"Oh,  no,  Mr.  Silvermount,  that  would  never  do!" 
she  says  very  glib.  "I'm  afraid  you  don't  appreciate 
my  little  girl's  value.  A  clever  comedienne  is  the  rarest 
thing  in  fillums,  and  she  is  it.  We  don't  need  money, 
really,  and  can  afford  to  wait  until  we  get  just  the 
right  opening." 

"Well,  we'll  say  full  salary  fifty-two  weeks  a  year, 
whether  she  is  working  or  not,"  says  Silver  Benny, 
chewing  the  cigar  again.  "How's  that?" 

"Well,"  says  mommer,  "that's  better.  But  all  it 
really  means,  Mr.  Silvermount,  is  that  if  you  are  pay- 
ing her  you  will  see  to  it  that  she  is  working.  How 
about  one  twenty-five  a  week,  full  time?" 

"No,  Mrs.  Delane,"  he  says,  "I  reached  my  limit. 
It  ain't  like  your  daughter  was  a  well-known  star  we 
are  bidding  for.  We  will  make  her,  consider  that! 
At  the  end  of  five  years  she  will  be  some  place,  what 
with  the  training  and  experience  she  will  get.  I  don't 
mind  telling  you,  I  think  she  has  got  a  big  future  if 
she  will  work." 

"I  see  you  think  she  will  be  good  for  five  years, 
anyways,"  says  mommer  dryly,  getting  up  and  holding 
out  her  hand.  "Well,  Mr.  Silvermount,  I  am  going  to 
ask  for  tonight  to  think  this  over.  Will  that  be  all 
right  ?  I  don't  want  to  rush  Bonnie  into  anything.  I 
never  did,  even  when  she  was  a  darling  little  baby!" 

"Very  well,  I'll  hear  from  you  in  the  morning  then," 


190  Laughter  Limited 

says  Silvermount,  opening  the  door  to  let  us  out.  "I 
think  you  had  better  say  yes,  Miss  Bonnie.  A  girl 
don't  get  a  chance  like  this  every  day." 

I  could  only  nod  and  smile  like  a  dumb-bell  as  we 
was  shown  out,  but  once  on  the  street  I  found  my  voice 
and  let  Adele  have  it. 

"What  was  you  so  upstage  for?"  I  cried.  "Suppose 
he  changes  his  mind?  What  if  he  gets  mad  because 
we  put  him  off.  Oh,  mommer,  I  am  afraid — we — you 
— have  made  a  awful  mistake !" 

"Shut  up,  dearie!"  says  Adele,  walking  briskly  but 
patting  my  arm  as  she  drew  it  through  hers.  "Just 
you  shut  up  and  leave  me  run  this.  It's  my  business 
and  I  know  what  I'm  about.  Why  do  you  suppose  he 
wants  to  tie  you  up  on  a  five-year  contract,  unless  he 
thinks  you  are  one  of  the  biggest  discoveries  in  years  ? 
He  knows  well  enough  that  in  two  years  you  are  go- 
ing to  have  Trixie  Trueman  wiped  off  the  silver-sheet 
and  will  be  worth  ten  times  the  contract  he'd  have  you 
tied  up  on !  Then  his  sending  for  you  instead  of  wait- 
ing until  you  come  around  begging  for  work!  It  all 
points  to  the  one  thing,  dearie.  You  are  started  for  the 
big  time,  and  you'll  land  there  quick." 

Of  course  I  could  see  there  was  sense  in  what  she 
said,  and  had  to  admit  as  much,  but  felt  kind  of  shaky 
about  it  too. 

"I  wonder  what  this  Nickolls  has  got  up  his  sleeve," 
says  mommer  as  we  climbed  the  hilly  street  towards  his 
bungalow.  "Well,  we  will  soon  know." 

Nicky's  house  stood  on  one  of  them  little  ridges  of 
streets  that  cling  like  shelves  to  the  Hollywood  moun- 


Laughter  Limited  191 

tains,  and  end  because  they  just  naturally  can't  climb 
any  higher,  and  from  the  brick  terrace  the  view  of  the 
city  was  like  fairyland.  The  tall  pepper  trees  on  the 
sidewalk  of  the  street  below  brushed  this  terrace  with 
their  tops.  It  was  like  being  in  a  bird's  nest.  You 
could  see  for  miles  and  miles,  the  pink  and  white  and 
green  of  the  big  town,  the  black  spikes  of  distant  oil 
wells,  the  purple  and  blue  mountains  rolling  along  to- 
wards the  sea. 

The  bungalow  was  Spanish.  Very  simple,  of  con- 
crete, with  a  red  tiled  roof  and  long  windows,  and 
a  minute  after  we  rang,  Nicky  himself  opened  a  door 
directly  into  the  great  enormous  room  that  was 
practically  the  whole  house.  A  room  as  big  and  simple 
and  ruggedly  beautiful  as  himself.  There  was  a 
open  fireplace  at  one  end  and  a  open  grand  piano  at  the 
other,  and  a  big  blue  tapestry  with  a  heathen  god  of 
some  kind  embroidered  on  it,  hanging  from  the  iron 
railing  of  the  stairs  which  led  right  up  out  of  this 
strange  room. 

"Hello,  girls !"  says  Nicky.  "Come  right  in.  I  have 
had  my  Jap  make  iced  tea — much  against  his  principles 
— and  it's  just  ready!  Sit  down  and  be  comfortable. 
These  are  good  cigarettes.  Now  tell  me,  what  did  the 
old  boy  say,  anyhow?" 

We  told  him.  At  least  mommer  did,  and  he  listened 
in  silence,  nodding  now  and  then,  or  shaking  his  head 
in  that  lion  way  of  his.  And  he  let  her  get  absolutely 
all  through  before  he  spoke. 

"Have  some  more  tea?"  he  says  then.  "No?  Then 
let  us  talk  about  me  for  a  moment.  You  must  have 


192  Laughter  Limited 

wondered  why  I  wanted  to  see  you  up  here.  Well,  it 
is  because  I  am  leaving  Silvermount!" 

Some  jolt,  that!  Why,  Nicky  leaving  Silvermount 
was  hard  to  grasp.  He  was  part  of  them.  He  had  been 
there  for  years.  He  was  their  best  man  and  they  told 
the  world  he  was.  He  smiled  a  little  when  he  saw  our 
faces  at  his  announcement. 

"I'm  not  leaving  Benny  for  another  company,"  he 
says.  "I'm  going  to  make  and  produce  my  own  pic- 
tures. I've  been  wanting  to  do  this  for  a  long  time, 
and  I've  held  out,  waiting  for  just  one  thing.  Now  I 
have  found  it,  and  I  am  going  ahead." 

Nicky  come  over  close  and  drew  up  a  little  leather- 
covered  stool  and  sat  on  it,  hitching  himself  over  to  us 
confidential  and  earnest. 

"I  want  to  explain  the  whole  situation  to  you,"  he 
says,  "but  first  I  want  to  say  something  in  Benny's 
favor.  The  Silvermount  practically  controls  the  mo- 
tion-picture industry  today.  It  is,  morally  if  not  actu- 
ally, a  trust.  They  are  the  top  of  the  wave,  and  if 
you  sign  with  them  you  will  be  in  with  the  big-time 
people,  and  in  pretty  fairly  right.  He  is  not  offer- 
ing you  enough  money  for  what  he  evidently  considers 
you  are  worth,  but  if  you  sign  with  him  you  will  get 
your  money.  At  least  it  will  be  as  certain  as  anything 
in  pictures,  and  I  want  to  be  sure  you  understand  what 
a  good  thing  that  is  before  I  go  any  further.  Do 
you?" 

"Yes,  Nicky!"  I  says  breathlessly,  because  I  could 
feel  something  big  was  coming.  "Go  on  and  talk, 
Nicky!" 


Laughter  Limited  193 

"What  I  am  going  to  do  is  this,"  says  he.  "I  am 
going  to  see  if  it  is  not  possible  to  make  good  pictures, 
and  make  'em  clean,  with  a  thoroughly  honest  force. 
Joe,  that  splendid  camera  man,  is  coming  with  me, 
and  so  is  Louie,  and  I  know  where  I  can  get  one  or  two 
others.  I'll  rent  space  in  the  Bunton  Studios  and  work 
cheap.  You  have  heard  me  holler  about  how  playing 
preferences  has  dry-rotted  Silvermount  ?  Well,  there'll 
be  none  of  that  stuff  on  my  lot !  I  don't  want  anybody 
with  me  who  doesn't  understand  that  thoroughly. 
There  will  be  no  grafts  and  no  favorites !" 

"Good!"  says  mommer.  "When  will  the  funeral 
be,  and  do  we  omit  flowers?" 

Nicky  laughed.    "Why  ?"  says  he. 

"I  thought  you  was  talking  about  going  to  heaven," 
says  mommer. 

"It's  more  likely  to  be  hell,"  says  Nicky  with  a  snort. 
"But  I'll  get  a  clean  organization  if  I  have  to  raise  just 
that  to  get  it !  I  know  my  business,  and  I'm  only  going 
to  hire  people  who  know  theirs." 

He  got  up  again  and  commenced  pacing  up  and 
down  the  long  room,  clasping  and  unclasping  his  hands 
nervously. 

"Now  we  come  to  the  point,"  he  says.  "I  own  three 
scripts  by  Greyton,  the  chap  who  wrote  The  Mischief 
Maker.  I  bought  them  long  ago,  before  the  Silver- 
mount  people  could  see  him  at  all.  They  are  all  first- 
class  comedy  material  suitable  for  super  features.  And 
the  only  thing  I  have  been  waiting  for  is  the  right 
star." 

He  stopped  in  front  of  me  and  smiled  that  sweet 


194  Laughter  Limited 

smile  of  his  that  would  win  a  heart  of  stone.  But 
there  was  nothing  slick  in  his  eyes. 

"I  have  capital  enough  right  now  to  make  one  pic- 
ture," says  he.  "And  the  promise  of  more.  Say,  little 
Bonnie,  Ben  told  you  one  lie  today,  and  that  was  when 
he  said  he'd  make  a  real  actress  out  of  you.  You  are 
a  real  actress.  You  are  that  strange,  unaccountable 
thing,  a  genius.  I'm  willing  to  gamble  my  entire  stake 
on  it.  In  other  words,  I'll  give  you  five  hundred  a 
week,  sign  you  for  all  three  pictures  at  an  increase  of 
a  hundred  a  week  with  each  successive  picture  we 
make.  It's  not  a  fortune  as  pictures  go;  but  it  is  all 
I  can  honestly  offer  you." 

"Oh !"  I  says,  getting  to  my  feet  like  a  person  in  a 
dream. 

"Little  Bonnie,"  he  says,  taking  my  hands,  "those 
stories  might  have  been  written  for  you.  And  I'm 
going  to  star  you  in  them  if  you'll  stick  by  me !" 

"Nicky,  Nicky !"  I  says.  "Don't  think  I'm  kidding, 
but  star  or  no  star,  you  made  me,  Nicky,  and  I'd  stick 
if  it  was  the  biggest  gamble  in  the  picture  game!" 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A  PERSON'S  not  knowing  what  experience  lies  just 
-*•*-  ahead  of  them  is  one  of  the  greatest  inconven- 
iences of  life.  Take  for  a  sample  a  boy  I  know  of  who 
got  ruined  by  a  saxophone.  You  see  this  boy,  he  was 
awful  anxious  to  get  into  the  pictures  and  had  made 
friends  with  another  boy  named  Eddie,  who  knew 
a  producer  real  well.  Eddie  was  going  to  introduce 
our  hero  to  this  producer  sometime,  but  in  the  mean- 
while our  friend  borrowed  a  saxophone  from  him. 
Well,  this  Eddie  went  away  on  a  trip,  and  our  hero 
thought,  well,  I  believe  I  will  high-finance  a  saxophone 
of  my  own.  So  he  hocked  Eddie's  saxophone  and  with 
part  of  the  money,  he  paid  the  first  installment  on  one 
of  his  own.  He  was  just  learning  to  play  real  good, 
because  as  he  was  not  working  he  had  plenty  of  time 
to  practice,  when  he  heard  that  Eddie  had  returned 
sooner  than  expected.  Well,  Eddie  naturally  wanted 
his  saxophone  back,  so  our  hero,  being  broke,  had  to 
hock  his  installment  saxophone  in  order  to  get  his 
friend's  out.  Which  he  done. 

The  only  trouble  was  that  when  the  installment  col- 
lector come  around  there  wasn't  any  installment  to  pay 
him  with,  and  when  he  says  why  then  I  will  take  the 
instrument,  our  hero  had  nothing  only  a  pawn  ticket,  so 
the  installment  man  had  him  put  in  the  cooler.  And 

195 


196  Laughter  Limited 

this  day  that  he  went  to  the  cooler  happened  to  be  the 
very  day  Eddie  had  it  all  fixed  up  for  him  to  meet  the 
producer.  Well,  he  learned  to  play  the  saxophone,  any- 
ways. 

Now  when  I  signed  up  with  Nicky  to  star  at  five 
hundred  a  week  the  world  was  my  saxophone,  so  to 
speak,  and  it  looked  like  I  was  going  to  have  lots  of 
chance  to  learn  to  play  it. 

"This  is  like  it!"  says  mommer.  "What  a  good 
thing  we  didn't  close  with  Silvermount.  They  say  a 
bird  in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush,  but  I  always 
say,  not  if  you  can  kill  the  two  birds  with  one  stone!'" 

"Well,  now  that  we  are  rich,"  I  says,  "there  is  one 
thing  I  am  going  to  holler  about.  No  more  Mrs. 
Snifter  in  our  lifes,  and,  oh  sweet  daddy;  won't  I  weep 
at  parting  from  her,  just!" 

"It's  a  real  cheap,  comfortable  little  place,"  says 
mommer  doubtfully.  "And  we  could  save  against  the 
rainy  season/' 

"Say,  listen,  mommer  dear,"  I  says.  "This  is  only 
April,  and  what  with  my  contract,  the  rainy  season  can't 
possibly  start  for  five  months.  What  is  more,  earning 
the  big  money  which  I  now  am,  I  feel  entitled  to  get 
a  little  fun  out  of  it.  Of  course  I  don't  intend  to  lose 
my  head,  but  I  do  think  we  ought  to  buy  a  house  on 
time,  and  also  a  car  on  the  installment  plan.  Nothing 
much,  you  know.  Say  an  eighteen-room  Spanish  home 
and  a  nice  little  roadster.  I  don't  care  for  anything 
over  twelve  cylinders  for  a  start." 

"Why,  dearie !"  says  mommer.  "After  all  you  said 
about  economy !" 


Laughter  Limited  197 

"But,  mommer,  after  we  start  the  next  picture  I  will 
be  getting  even  more !"  I  explained  reasonably.  "And 
when  we  come  to  renew  the  contract,  why  you  know 
yourself,  I  will  be  able  to  ask  for  practically  anything 
I  want.  Hitch  your  wagon  to  a  star,  I  say." 

"Well,  you  know  that  piece  commencing  Twinkle, 
twinkle  little  star,  how  I  wonder  where  you  are/ " 
says  mommer.  "When  I  was  Laura's  mother  I  always 
used  to  tell  her  you  can  afford  to  live  simple  if  you  got 
money  in  the  savings  bank." 

"Did  she  act  on  it?"  says  I. 

"Well,  no,"  says  Adele. 

And  after  that  nothing  mommer  said  could  stop  me 
from  getting  us  a  few  things.  She  just  didn't  seem  to 
realize  there  would  be  plenty  more  where  this  week's 
pay  came  from,  and  so  why  not  enjoy  life  while  a  per- 
son had  it?  Especially  after  all  the  grief  we'd  been 
through.  And  so  I  set  out  to  grab  off  a  few  of  this 
world's  best,  wondering  a  little  if  I  would  be  able  to 
convince  the  ones  I  was  about  to  deal  with  that  I  was 
really  a  star.  I  even  put  my  contract  into  my  bag  when 
I  went  looking  for  my  house,  thinking  maybe  it  would 
be  necessary  to  flash  it.  But  not  at  all.  Nicky's  an- 
nouncements had  evidently  forestalled  any  more  pri- 
vate personal  ones  of  my  own,  and  the  very  first  real- 
estate  office  I  went  in,  the  man  there  knew  more  about 
me  than  I  did. 

"Sure,  I  know  you,  Miss  Delane,"  says  the  bird.  "I 
seen  your  picture  in  the  paper  this  morning!" 

Whatter  you  know !  Of  course  I  hated  to  hear  this, 
and  it  offended  my  ears  like  sweet  music  or  something ! 


198  Laughter  Limited 

My  map  in  the  news  sheets,  and  a  recognizable  pic- 
ture, at  that!  Also  the  real-estate  folks  treated  me 
with  a  respect  which  was  all  news  to  me.  Up  to  then 
I  had  a  idea  that  if  a  person  was  in  the  pictures  every 
California  native  son  or  daughter,  or  even  naturalized 
lowaian,  would  consider  the  fact  sufficient  grounds  for 
insulting  and  mistrusting  me.  However,  it  seems  I  had 
a  crooked  slant  on  that  subject.  Insults  was  for  would- 
bes,  extras  and  small  fry  generally.  But  once  let  a 
actress  be  a  star,  and  sweet  daddy,  how  the  flowers  did 
bloom!  It  was  Miss  Delane  allow  me!  Would  this 
suit  you,  Miss  Delane,  or  would  you  like  something 
better  made  to  order  ?  Let  me  charge  it,  Miss  Delane, 
let  me  send  it,  let  me  carry  it,  let  me  this,  let  me  that, 
until  I  felt  like  a  cross  between  the  queen  of  Spain  and 
the  Statue  of  Liberty. 

Every  place  I'd  go  it  was  the  same.  The  clerk  at 
the  Laurelwood  was  the  only  person  I  couldn't  impress, 
and  I  guess  he  was  calloused  from  rubbing  up  against 
celebrities  for  so  long. 

"Well,  well,  if  it  isn't  Miss  Delane!"  says  he  lightly 
when  I  dropped  by  there  to  see  did  I  have  any  mail. 
He  had  known  me  as  McFadden  of  course,  but  nothing 
got  by  that  bird.  "Well,  well !  Working  for  the  pic- 
tures, I  see!" 

However,  to  get  a  rise  out  of  a  hotel  clerk  was  really 
too  much  to  expect,  and  the  rest  of  the  world  made  the 
loss  up  to  me,  I'll  say  it  did ! 

The  home  I  finally  decided  on  was  not  after  all  a 
mansion,  but  the  cutest  little  bungalow  imaginable,  and 
I  got  it  close  both  to  Santa  Monica  Boulevard  and  the 


Laughter  Limited  199 

price  I  was  prepared  for.  I  had  decided  it  must  be 
thoroughly  modern  in  every  way,  and  so  selected  an 
old  Spanish  model  from  a  street  where  a  hundred  new 
assorted  homes  was  on  the  market  all  at  once,  most 
of  them  finished,  or  pretty  nearly  ready  to  move  into, 
but  in  spite  of  that,  quite  a  selection  remaining  as  yet 
unsold. 

I  had  a  awful  time  making  up  my  mind  between  a 
Italian  villa  with  blue  doors  and  windows  and  a  red 
roof;  a  cute  little  Greek  temple,  all  snow-white  with 
bouquets  of  flowers  done  in  colored  tiles  let  into  the 
plaster  on  the  outside  walls;  a  light  green  Early  Eng- 
lish cottage  with  black  and  white  cross  beams  and  a 
roof  of  some  kind  of  patent  shingles  that,  honest, 
looked  pretty  nearly  like  a  thatch;  and  a  warm  rose- 
pink  stucco  Spanish  one,  with  carved  redwood  window 
frames,  tiled  roof  and  a  tiny  patio  and  colonnade  where 
the  sweetest  assortment  of  cactus  was  already  set  out, 
just  like  Ramona's  house  or  something. 

They  was  all  on  the  same  block  and  I  finally  fell  for 
the  Spanish,  paid  down  a  coupla  dollars  to  bind  the 
bargain,  and  then  mommer  and  me  went  to  furnishing, 
and  here  is  where  I  had  trouble  with  mommer  right 
away,  because  she  had  set  ideas  about  gilded  eucalyptus 
leaves  in  the  fireplaces,  kewpie  dolls  in  the  bookcases, 
and  she  would  keep  taking  the  colored  plaster  art  book 
ends  I  had  picked  up  down  to  a  art-gift  shop,  and  put- 
ting one  at  each  end  of  the  mantel  for  ornaments. 

"Say  listen,  mommer  dear,"  I  says,  "I  been  raised 
on  the  best  magazines  in  the  country  and  I  know  what 
is  what  in  interior  decoration,  and  this  isn't.  I  want 


200  Laughter  Limited 

our  home  should  be  refined  in  every  particular,  and  in 
thoroughly  good  taste.  So  if  you  don't  mind,  just 
lay  off,  will  you,  until  Baumburger's  Home  Decoration 
Department  gets  here." 

"How  do  you  know  they  will  make  a  artistic  job  of 
it?"  says  mommer. 

"Well,  they  ought  to,"  I  says.  "They  been  furnish- 
ing Spanish-style  houses  complete  ever  since  Mission 
furniture  went  cold.  Besides,  there  is  a  regular 
formula  for  Southern  California  houses  in  good  taste, 
and  once  you  know  it  you  can't  go  wrong.  Take  one 
refractory  table,  three  shopworn  altar  cloths,  one  pair 
polly-chromo  candlesticks,  one  black  velvet  rug,  four 
of  the  most  uncomfortable  wooden  carved  chairs  you 
can  find,  spread  thinly  about  a  room  with  no  wall 
paper  over  the  plaster,  and  there  you  are!  Perfect 
Inquisition  Period  room!" 

"Bah !"  says  mommer.    "Piffle !" 

But  she  didn't  argue  any  beyond  that,  not  even 
when  I  had  Casa  Delane  engraved  on  the  iron  door 
knocker,  although  I  seen  her  look  at  it  hard  for  a 
long  while  and  then  register  "Cuckoo!  Perfectly, 
absolutely  cuckoo!"  as  she  went  away. 

But  my  buying  the  car  was  even  worse.  Mommer 
was  all  for  a  flivver,  not  alone  because  she  could  run 
one  of  them  herself  but  on  the  expense  account  again. 

"Why,  Bonnie  dearie!"  she  says  to  me.  "Don't 
think  I  am  trying  to  prevent  you  from  spending  your 
own  money.  I  know  there's  precious  little  use  in  me 
trying  to  do  that !  But  think  what  them  cars  can  do ! 
Why,  I  know  a  man  used  his  for  climbing  trees,  or  so 


Laughter  Limited  201 

he  claimed.  And  they  say  that  you  get  sixty  miles  to 
the  gallon,  and  a  pair  of  shoes  last  four  years." 

"Well,  the  kind  of  car  I'm  going  to  get,"  I  says 
firmly,  "would  take  a  gallon  sixty  miles  a  minute  if 
I  was  in  the  bootlegging  business,  and  as  for  shoes, 
the  only  shoes  that  ever  lasted  me  four  years  was  a 
pair  of  pink  knitted  bedroom  slippers  my  old  chum 
Ella  give  me  for  Christmas  one  year,  and  the  reason 
they  wore  so  good  is  because  I  never  put  them  on.  No, 
mommer  dear,  if  there  is  one  thing  a  successful  picture 
actress  is  known  for  it  is  her  car.  And  the  one  I  am 
going  to  have  will  be  a  humdinger !" 

I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  my  car  should  be  in 
every  way  distinguished  and  handsome,  and  believe  me 
it  took  some  shopping  to  find  exactly  what  I  wanted — 
a  boat  that  was  both  refined  and  individual  and  still 
in  good  taste,  yet  unmistakably  expensive.  But  at 
last  I  settled  on  a  Alpine  twin-six. 

Well,  this  car  was  sure  some  boat.  It  was  painted 
snow-white  with  solid  brass  disk  wheels  and  crimson 
genuine  morocco  leather  upholstery,  and  it  had  the 
cutest,  most  complete  equipment  I  ever  seen,  from  a 
solid  silver  eight-day  clock  to  ash  trays,  cigarette 
lighter,  cigarette  box,  vanity  case,  a  place  to  keep  my 
veils,  and  a  horn  like  the  Angel  Gabriel.  It  was  real 
practical,  too,  for  it  had  a  double  windshield  to  keep 
the  persons  in  the  back  seat  from  hearing  what  the  two 
on  the  front  seat  said. 

I  believe  it  also  had  a  engine  of  some  kind,  because 
the  lovely  talker  who  sold  me  it  lifted  up  the  hood 
and  gabbled  about  it  quite  a  lot,  but  all  I  come  away 


202  Laughter  Limited 

with  was  the  general  idea  that  the  bus  had  a  head- 
involved  engine,  double  irritation,  four  speeds  and 
one  standstill,  or  something  of  the  kind. 

Well,  when  I  had  bought  this  bus,  and  paid  the  first 
installment  on  it,  I  kind  of  went  easy  about  what  else 
I  let  myself  in  for,  and  got  very  little  more.  Of 
course  the  furniture  in  the  house,  including  an  electric 
piano,  was  on  time,  and  so  I  merely  bought  myself  a 
wrist  watch  with  only  quite  small  diamonds  in  it,  and 
one  good-looking  ring  to  wear  on  my  contract-signing 
hand.  You  maybe  have  noticed  that  if  the  hand  which 
stretches  out  the  old  self-filler  to  make  its  mark  on  the 
sign-here  line  wears  a  diamond,  the  papers  are  gen- 
erally made  out  accordingly.  Anyways,  I  got  me 
these  bare  necessities,  and  then  I  quit,  except  for  a  few 
charge  accounts  here  and  there. 

Meanwhile  of  course  I  was  riot  spending  all  my  time 
in  the  stores.  Nicky  had  rented  space  on  the  Brunton 
lot,  right  near  Pickford,  and  we  was,  during  odd  mo- 
ments, making  our  first  picture.  The  name  of  it  was 
Alias  Cinderella,  who  was  me,  and  it  was  a  scream, 
some  of  it  modern  and  some  of  it  taking  place  back 
in  Middling  Evil  times  in  Merry  England,  and  right 
away  Nicky  was  in  trouble,  just  like  an  old-time  pro- 
ducer, on  account  of  a  unprecedented  thing  happening. 
The  extras  struck. 

Of  course  they  was  not  common  extras,  but  a  bunch 
of  cow-punchers.  In  the  pictures  practically  all  riding 
scenes  are  done  by  punchers  in  various  costumes,  and 
in  the  big  mob  scene  in  Cinderella  the  punchers  Nicky 
had  hired  was  dressed  up  in  winter-weight  suits  of 


Laughter  Limited  203 

armor,  with  helmets  and  all,  and  the  trouble  come  out 
of  the  fact  of  the  armor  being  so  heavy  that  for  the 
first  time  in  their  lifes  these  ptfnchers  couldn't  get  on 
their  horses  without  being  helped,  and  they  took  it  as 
a  personal  insult  from  Nicky. 

Well,  while  Nicky  was  straightening  this  fight  out 
I  had  time  to  get  my  dressing  room  at  the  studio  fixed, 
and  believe  me,  I  had  some  shack.  The  system  was 
different  over  here,  and  the  stars  each  had  a  bungalow 
to  theirselves,  and  I  was  no  exception.  A  modest 
young  couple  could  of  gone  housekeeping  in  mine 
real  comfortable,  for  I  had  a  sitting  room  with  a  fire- 
place in  it,  a  rest  room  with  a  bed,  a  big  dressing  room 
and  bath,  and  the  cutest  kitchenette  ever,  where  mom- 
mer  would  fix  up  lunch  every  day  for  Nicky  and  her 
and  me  and  usually  Greg  Strickland,  and  often  as  not 
one  or  two  others,  including  Slim  Rolf,  who  was  now 
our  publicity  director,  and  my  old  friend  from  Stoney- 
brook,  Bert  Green. 

It  was  over  Bert  that  I  and  Nicky  had  our  first  and 
only  fight  because  a  promise  is  a  promise  and  I  had 
made  one  to  Bert  and  was  going  to  keep  it  at  any  price. 
So  as  soon  as  Nicky  had  hired  his  space  I  wrote  home 
to  Bert. 

"Dear  Bert,"  I  wrote.  "Well,  here  I  am  a  star,  and 
I  want  you  to  take  the  first  train  out  here  and  be 
still-camera  man  with  this  concern.  Dear  old  Bert,  I 
will  sure  be  glad  to  see  you,  this  is  no  joke,  Bert,  but 
a  real  offer  and  I  will  see  that  you  get  the  right  sort 
of  money.  So  come  at  once,  but  please  do  not  tell 
pop  one  thing  about  me  but  inclosed  find  fifty  dollars 


204  Laughter  Limited 

($50)  which  you  might  lend  him  from  yourself,  see, 
because  I  know  he  needs  it,  but  do  not  tell  him  you 
heard  from  me  or  where  I  am." 

Well,  when  I  had  posted  this  letter  and  couldn't 
get  it  back,  I  went  and  broke  the  news  to  Nicky,  and 
right  then  we  had  this  row  I  am  telling  you  about 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  I  was  not  going  to  have  any  of 
that  sort  of  thing  on  this  lot?"  Nicky  shouted  at  me. 
"Didn't  you  agree  to  it?  That's  what  ruins  the  picture 
business.  It's  a  damn  outrage,  and  I  won't  stand  for 
it!" 

"All  right,  go  ahead  and  fire  me!"  I  says.  "But 
Bert  will  make  good,  and  a  promise  is  a  promise.  If 
you  don't  want  me  any  more,  just  say  so,  and  I  can 
go  back  to  Silver-mount  Especially  after  the  morn- 
ing's papers." 

Well,  that  was  true  enough.  Because  The  Mis- 
chief Maker  had  been  released  in  New  York  the  week 
before  and  it  had  turned  out  to  be  a  ten-strike  with  fully 
nine  of  the  strikes  in  my  favor.  Heaven  knows  I 
hadn't  meant  to  do  Trixie  Trueman  any  dirt  after  all 
her  kind  generosity  to  me,  but  then,  I  couldn't  very 
well  do  myself  a  mean  trick  either,  and  I  had  acted 
the  very  best  I  knew  how  in  the  piece.  So  when  it 
come  out  that  I  had  walked  away  with  the  picture, 
why  it  was  not  really  my  fault  if  I  was  so  good.  All 
the  papers  without  exception  had  said  I  was  a  won- 
derful actress  and  had  a  great  future,  and  my  mail  was 
swamped  with  letters  not  alone  from  milliners,  and  so 
forth,  but  agencies  and  a  couple  of  casting  directors, 
and  so  naturally  I  felt  I  could  stand  on  my  own  feet 


Laughter  Limited  205 

and  that  the  shoe  was  on  the  other  foot,  and  so  forth. 
But  for  all  that  I  couldn't  scare  Nicky  or  make  him 
back  down  for  one  minute,  even. 

"All  right !"  says  he  grimly.  "Go  on.  I'll  let  you 
out  if  you  wish.  Because  I  won't  have  anybody  on 
my  lot  who  isn't  contented." 

"Oh,  Nicky,  I  don't  really  want  to  go!"  I  says 
weakly.  "And  if  Bert  ain't  the  best  still-photographer 
at  the  Brunton  you  can  fire  the  both  of  us.  I  wouldn't 
wish  a  clown  on  to  you,  Nicky,  you  ought  to  know 
that!" 

"Augh!"  he  grunted,  still  mad,  and  walked  away. 

But  when  Bert  showed  up,  long  nose,  black  ribband 
and  nervous  eyeglasses,  all  just  the  same  as  ever, 
Nicky  come  around  to  thinking  the  same  as  I  did,  and 
soon  we  was  all  friends  again. 

Things  was  different  about  Strick,  although  it  was 
not  me  hired  him,  but  John  Austin  Nickolls  his  own 
self.  Strick  had  been  pretty  good  in  The  Mischief 
Maker,  and  this  prince-charming  part  suited  him  first- 
rate.  So  Nicky  signed  him  up  quite  uninfluenced  by 
me,  because  all  I  had  said  to  him  was  that  Strick  fed 
me  well,  and  that  he  would  be  perfectly  cast  in  the 
part,  and  that  everybody  else  Nicky  suggested  made 
me  nervous  and  I  didn't  know  could  I  play  opposite 
them,  and  a  few  little  things  like  that.  Nicky  listened 
while  I  pulled  this  line,  smiling  his  sweet  smile,  and 
honest,  a  person  would  of  thought  I  was  a  puppy  he 
was  having  a  lot  of  patience  with,  or  something,  the 
way  he  waited  until  I  got  all  through,  just  merely 
shaking  his  lion's  mane  indulgently  now  and  then. 


206  Laughter  Limited 

"I  don't  like  that  boy,"  says  he  at  last.  "I  think 
he's  a  bad  actor." 

"Oh,  no,  Nicky !"  I  says.  "He's  a  wonderful  actor, 
really,  and  he  has  a  great  future!" 

"You  know  what  I  mean  perfectly  well,"  says  Nicky. 
"He  can  act  adequately,  and  I'm  going  to  hire  him 
because  he  looks  the  part  and  has  good  legs.  But  he's 
a  hard-boiled  ham  and  a  pup  and  I  don't  like  him.  He 
offends  me.  So  does  the  smell  of  developing  fluid,  and 
I  have  to  use  both  in  this  business.  But  I  trust  you 
will  admit  I  don't  have  to  like  'em — eh?" 

Well,  naturally,  I  didn't  make  any  remarks  about 
that.  I  couldn't,  somehow,  because  I  liked  Nicky,  and 
although  fond  of  Strick  I  couldn't  prove  that  he  was 
any  saint.  However,  he  was  to  be  my  leading  juvenile, 
so  I  should  worry! 

It  ain't  often  that  a  person  finds  heaven  on  earth, 
but  these  weeks  of  making  Cinderella  come  pretty 
near  to  being  that,  and  I  sure  had  a  wonderful  time, 
flying  all  over  the  country  in  my  big  white  car,  Stricky 
driving  it  for  me  practically  every  day,  and  on  Sun- 
days going  with  him  and  mommer  and  dear  old  Bert 
down  to  Riverside  Inn  for  lunch,  or  the  four  of  us 
loafing  away  the  day  at  the  beach  under  bright  um- 
brellas, wearing  just  our  bathing  suits,  meeting  every- 
body in  the  motion-picture  world,  and  having  a  big 
time  generally. 

Week  days  was  different,  though,  and  partially 
through  mommer's  influence,  but  mostly  of  my  own 
accord,  there  was  no  night  life  for  me.  Day  after  day 
I  would  work  hard  as  I  knew  how  for  Nicky  and  his 


Laughter  Limited  207 

stake  in  me,  but  principally  for  my  own  art,  and  was 
never  so  happy  as  then.  Often  of  a  evening  I  would 
come  back  to  the  studio  after  dinner  and  sit  in  with 
my  director  while  we  worked  the  technical  force  over- 
time, running  the  rushes  over  and  over,  cutting  titling 
and  criticizing.  Sometimes  we  would  stay  on  until 
eleven  o'clock  or  later,  and  go  home  dead  but  happy, 
growing  daily  more  sure  that  we  was  making  one  of 
the  finest  special  features  that  had  ever  been  turned 
out.  It  was  hard,  and  at  times  awful  discouraging, 
what  with  difficulties  coming  up  and  so  forth.  But  in 
the  main  the  stuff  was  good.  We  was  always  sure  of 
that,  especially  one  scene  where  I  held  up  a  burglar 
with  a  revolver. 

"Say,  listen,  Nicky,"  I  says  one  evening.  "I  wouldn't 
be  surprised  if  some  night  I  had  to  play  that  same 
scene  at  home.  There's  been  a  lot  of  burglaries  out  in 
our  district  lately,  and  I  even  heard  one  of  the  girls 
was  held  up  in  her  car  and  had  her  diamonds  taken 
away  from  her!" 

"Practically  obliged  to  go  home  in  a  barrel,  I  sup- 
pose," says  Nicky.  "Better  get  yourself  a  gun,  little 
Bonnie.  It's  not  a  bad  idea  for  two  women  alone  in  a 
house  to  have  one  handy,  especially  way  out  in  those 
new  developments." 

"I  think  I'll  just  take  the  one  I'm  using  in  the  picture 
home  to-night,"  I  says,  "and  borrow  it  until  I  can  think 
to  buy  one." 

"That's  a  good  hunch,"  says  Nicky.  "Take  it  along. 
It  happens  to  be  my  own,  and  you  are  welcome  to  it." 

Well,  I  felt  a  lot  easier  at  night  after  that,  and  if 


208  Laughter  Limited 

any  burglar  was  one-half  as  scared  of  that  gun  as  I 
was,  well,  they  would  let  our  house  alone,  that  was  a 
cinch!  Stricky  also  had  been  worried  over  me  being 
alone  in  the  house  with  only  mommer,  and  he  was  re- 
lieved when  I  told  him  about  it  one  Sunday  afternoon. 
We  was  going  out  to  the  beach  together,  so  naturally 
I  didn't  take  it,  but  showed  him  where  I  had  it  parked 
in  the  drawer  of  a  Early  Spanish  kitchen  cabinet  we 
had  in  our  parlor. 

"Gee,  that's  a  pretty  gun,"  says  he.  "Look  at  that 
inlay,  will  you!  Say,  listen,  Bonnie,  is  it  practical?" 

"Sure,"  I  says.  "Didn't  you  see  me  shooting  blanks 
with  it  at  old  Joe  in  the  burglar  sequence?" 

"This  the  same  one  ?"  says  Strick  as  I  put  it  away  in 
the  drawer  again.  "Funny  I  didn't  notice  it  at  the 
studio;  it  is  certainly  some  gun!  I  wish  it  was  mine." 

Well,  of  course  I  would  have  given  it  to  him  if  I 
had  owned  it,  because  the  way  I  felt  towards  Stricky  by 
now,  he  could  of  had  anything  I  owned  just  for  the 
asking,  including  myself.  But  he  wasn't  the  marrying 
kind,  I  knew  that,  while  hoping  all  the  time  that  he 
would  change.  And  although  he  certainly  was  sweet 
with  me,  and  come  around  a  lot  and  ate  practically 
every  meal  at  our  house,  and  I  went  everywheres  with 
him,  not  a  murmur  about  wedding  bells  had  come  from 
him  so  far.  You  know  how  it  is.  If  you  like  a  person 
awful  well  and  can't  keep  from  showing  it,  the  chances 
are  they  will  like  you  all  the  less;  the  faster  you  ad- 
vance the  faster  they  retreat,  and  I  was  getting  so  dizzy 
with  loving  him  that  I  couldn't  see  straight  any  more 
when  he  was  around..  The  situation  was  rapidly  get- 


Laughter  Limited  209 

ting  Adele's  goat,  and  she  used  to  hang  a  lot  of  crape 
about  it. 

"Why,  Bonnie  dearie,  I  can't  imagine  what  you  see 
in  him,"  she  says.  "That  is,  outside  of  his  good  looks. 
I  think  that  some  day  you  will  be  sorry  you  know  him. 
Act  with  him  if  you  must,  but  off  the  lot  for  heaven's 
sake  lay  off  him !  Or  mark  my  words,  you  will  regret 
it.  I  been  in  the  industry  long  enough  to  tell  a  bad 
young  man  when  I  see  one,  and  I'm  telling  you !" 

Well  naturally,  after  the  number  of  years  she  had 
been  a  mother  to  all  them  many  daughters,  mommer 
had  ought  to  of  known  better  than  to  spring  a  line  of 
that  kind  on  me,  because  like  any  other  girl  in  love,  the 
more  dirt  was  peddled  to  me  about  Strick,  why  the 
stronger  for  him  I  got.  He  was  such  a  pleasure  to  look 
at,  and  why  everybody  should  pick  on  him  was  more 
than  I  could  tell,  and  I  was  as  jealous  as  a  cat  if  he  so 
much  as  looked  at  anybody  else.  And  give  him  things  ? 
Say,  I'd  of  given  Stricky  anything  in  the  world  except 
footage  in  the  camera! 


CHAPTER  XIX 

OF  course  when  it  come  to  holding  the  center  of  the 
lens  I  was  as  self -protective  as  any  other  going 
concern.  And  the  author  of  the  story,  Mr.  Harold 
Greyton,  and  me  had  considerably  different  views  on 
the  subject  of  what  scenes  I  was  to  have,  and  how 
many.  Nicky,  thank  the  Lord,  was  with  me,  but  be- 
tween us  Mr.  Greyton  had  his  hands  full. 

These  Greytons,  for  they  was  two  of  them,  man 
and  wife,  were  at  this  time  the  only  flies  in  my  rice 
pudding.  I  was  sitting  on  the  top  of  the  world  crow- 
ing, but  whenever  either  of  them  come  on  the  lot  I  had 
to  lay  off.  Not  but  that  Mr.  Greyton  was  always  po- 
lite. He  was,  excepting  of  course  when  talking  to 
Nicky  about  what  Nicky  was  doing  to  his  story.  But 
as  far  as  I  personally  was  concerned  Mr.  Greyton  had 
the  manner  of  a  regular  duke.  That  was  what  got  my 
goat. 

For  you  see.  up  to  the  time  the  Greytons  commenced 
overrunning  our  lot  I  thought  I  had  a  lot  of  class. 
Some  dog  I  put  on,  and  the  very  minute  I  come  in  con- 
tact with  them  people  I  see  that  I  had  been  bulling  my- 
self. I  was  inferior  in  social  manners,  and  in  my  heart 
I  realized  it.  I  had  for  a  moment  supposed  that  be- 
cause I  was  a  star  I  was  on  the  topside  of  things,  but 
now  I  seen  I  was  wrong.  There  was  in  pictures  a  so- 
cial layer  that  I  hadn't  even  touched  as  yet — a  class 

210 


Laughter  Limited  211 

which  spoke  like  Boston,  dressed  like  New  York  and 
lived  like  Philadelphia.  The  women,  like  Trixie  and 
some  other  prominent  stars  I  had  seen,  wore  only  a 
little  powder  and  no  other  make-up  when  off  the 
lot;  they  spoke  quiet;  their  cars  was  dark  and  no 
snap  to  them,  but  only  a  sort  of  appearance  that  made 
my  big  white  boat  all  wrong  somehow.  What  these 
folks  did  outside  of  playing  golf  and  riding  horse- 
back, and  maybe  running  a  ranch  back  in  the  valley 
somewheres,  I  didn't  know.  I  was  missing  something, 
I  wasn't  sure  just  what,  but  only  that  it  was  the  real 
big-time  performance  and  that  it  was  going  on  behind 
closed  doors.  I  might  be  a  star,  but  I  needed  a  lot  of 
polishing  up  before  I  could  shine  properly  among  the 
gang  the  Greytons  played  with. 

Of  course  I  got  a  certain  line  on  what  to  do,  just 
from  hearing  the  Greytons  talk.  They,  and  even  some 
of  the  big  stars,  read  books  and  everything.  Well,  I 
could  do  that,  and  play  golf,  as  well,  if  that  would  help 
on  my  refinement.  So  I  got  me  a  coupla  books  and  a 
golf  suit  of  black  and  white  checks  with  knickers,  and 
a  set  of  clubs  in  a  real  genuine  cowhide  bag.  But 
owning  that  cowhide  was  the  nearest  I  come  to  any 
browsing  on  the  green  grass  for  a  while,  on  account  of 
working  so  hard. 

One  thing  that  the  big  eggs  was  doing  I  could  do, 
and  that  was  to  take  a  little  of  the  course  in  diction 
that  a  young  Harvard  College  boy  was  giving.  He 
come  to  my  Spanish  Fandango  one  evening  a  week, 
and  fed  me  the  English  language.  It  seems  all  the  rich 
hams  who  had  graduated  to  a  butler  and  other  high- 


212  Laughter  Limited 

class  discomforts  of  refined  living  was  also  taking 
these  lessons  from  him  under  the  name  of  dramatic 
expression,  while  what  he  was  really  doing  was  learn- 
ing them  to  talk  straight.  But  after  two  weeks  I  grad- 
uated of  my  own  accord,  and  paid  him  for  the  course 
in  full. 

"I  tell  you  what,  buddy,"  I  says  to  him,  "I  guess  I 
have  now  learned  enough  accent  to  get  me  by  during 
a  introduction  or  a  interview,  or  to  enable  me  to  floor 
any  fresh  female  I  may  happen  to  run  into,  and  that  is 
all  I  need.  Some  day  when  I  am  less  busy  I  may  again 
try  to  pry  off  enough  of  a  cure  to  keep  me  from  having 
a  relapse,  but  just  now  I  got  my  art  to  think  about." 

You  see,  I  knew  that  I  would  get  to  the  top  more  on 
my  work  than  anything  else,  and  it  was  a  healthy  thing 
for  me  to  realize  in  time  I  was  not  actually  there  yet 
by  any  means.  And  believe  me,  although  climb  as  you 
may,  there  is  always  a  higher  place  beyond,  to  any  true 
artist.  Meanwhile  the  Greytons  continued  to  get  my 
angora. 

As  I  have  mentioned,  I  and  he  had  different  ideas 
about  the  picture.  There  was  a  young  boy's  part  in  it 
that  had  some  good  sequences,  and  I  couldn't  see  why 
they  should  not  be  turned  over  to  me.  But  it  seems 
Mr  Greyton  could  see  several  million  reasons  why  not, 
without  even  looking.  Finally  I  went  to  Nicky  about  it, 
and  Nicky  just  threw  his  hands  in  the  air  the  very 
minute  I  started  my  line  of  argument. 

"Authors!"  he  roared  like  a  lion.  "Don't  talk  to  me 
about  authors!  What  does  he  know  about  a  screen 
version  of  his  story?  Nothing,  absolutely  nothing! 


Laughter  Limited  213 

But  can  you  make  him  believe  that  ?  I  should  say  not ! 
I've  bought  this  story,  and  I'll  do  what  I  damn  please 
with  it!" 

"So  you  think  I'm  right,  don't  you,  Nicky?"  I  says. 

"Of  course  you  are  right!"  he  says.  "What  we  are 
doing  is  putting  a  little  pep  and  punch  into  his  script. 
We've  even  had  to  change  the  plot.  Say,  the  only  plot 
that  chap  has  is  in  the  cemetery!  And  yet  he  yaps 
around  here  all  day  about  'my  story,  my  beautiful 
story.'  By  heaven,  when  he  sees  this  picture  finished 
he  won't  know  he  had  anything  to  do  with  it.  He 
won't  even  recognize  it!  And  if  we  made  it  like  his 
stuff  the  theater  would  be  empty  before  the  end  of  the 
second  reel !" 

"What  can  you  do  about  it,  Nicky?"  I  says.  "Can't 
you  chain  him  up  or  something?  He's  got  us  worried 
nearly  to  death  sticking  around  the  set  all  the  time." 

"Don't  tell  me !"  says  Nicky.  "I've  noticed  that  quite 
plainly." 

He  got  thoughtful  for  a  moment,  scratching  his 
curls  in  that  funny  way  he  had. 

"I've  got  it !"  he  says  at  last.  "I'll  give  him  an  office ! 
One  with  a  desk  in  it  and  a  big  chair.  Then  he'll  think 
he  has  to  stay  there  or  lose  his  dignity,  and  he  can  sit  in 
it  from  now  to  Kingdom  Come,  keeping  the  furniture 
from  running  away,  and  otherwise  elevating  the  mo- 
tion pictures.  That'll  cage  him !" 

And  Mr.  Author  Grey  ton  fell  for  it,  too,  just  like 
Nicky  had  predicted.  We  gave  him  a  little  room  in 
one  of  the  main  buildings,  hitched  a  typewriter  in  it, 
a  roll-top  desk,  and  a  roll-back  chair,  and  pretty  nearly 


214  Laughter  Limited 

any  time  we  passed  the  window  we  could  see  the  author 
inside,  using  his  desk  for  all  it  was  worth.  By  which 
I  mean  to  say  his  feet  was  on  it,  and  he  would  be  hard 
at  work  reading  the  sporting  page  of  some  newspaper. 
But  it  kept  him  off  the  lot. 

Well,  struggling  with  authors  and  other  trials,  we 
still  managed  to  get  in  considerable  work,  making  a 
million-dollar  production  for  less  than  three  hundred 
thousand  dollars,  or  so  it  seemed  around  the  fourth 
week.  We  was  all  rejoicing  at  how  good  it  looked. 
Taking  things  by  and  large,  they  was  about  as  large  as 
anybody  could  desire.  And  then,  like  a  delicious  des- 
sert at  the  end  of  a  grand  meal,  I  woke  up  one  morn- 
ing like  Lord  Byron,  to  find  my  pictures  plastered  all 
over  Los  Angeles  and  neighborhood.  The  Mischief 
Maker  was  to  have  its  California  opening  at  Grauman's, 
and  in  spite  of  all  mention  to  the  contrary  my  name 
was  on  the  sheets.  The  paper  read  like  this : 

THE  MISCHIEF  MAKER 

FEATURING 

TRIXIE   TRUEMAN,    GREGORY   STRICKLAND 
BONNIE  DELANE 

AND 
THE  FAMOUS  SILVERMOUNT  COLLIH 

FLUFF 
IF  IT'S  A  SUPER-PRODUCTION,  IT*S  A 

SILVERMOUNT 

And  there  was  me  in  every  poster.  And  these 
posters  sure  was  original,  for  the  main  one  showed 


Laughter  Limited  215 

me  with  tangled  curls  and  the  bucket  of  suds,  not  beer 
but  the  kind  that  goes  down  the  sink ;  my  floor  mop,  my 
solemn  admiring  face  turned  sort  of  worshipping  on 
Trixie  in  her  grand  furs,  and  Stricky  standing  by, 
slapping  his  riding  breeches  with  a  riding  whip. 

I  saw  the  first  one  when  mommer  asked  me  early  in 
the  morning  would  I  please  run  down  to  the  nearest 
market  and  get  some  butter  for  breakfast,  she  had  for- 
got to  ?  And  I  had  not  wanted  to  go,  but  got  out  the 
bus  and  went  because  mommer  had  a  way  of  being 
obeyed.  And  when  I  parked  on  Hollywood  Boulevard 
there  was  a  board  fence  next  to  the  market,  and  here 
this  fence  was  absolutely  covered  with  me !  Well,  how 
long  I  stayed  parked  there,  heaven  only  knows,  but  it's 
a  wonder  a  cop  didn't  get  after  me.  I  just  sat  and 
looked  at  myself  and  looked  and  looked.  Anybody 
would  of  thought  they  was  no  mirrors  at  home.  And 
no  regular  art  gallery  ever  gave  me  the  kick  that  open- 
air  Hollywood  one  did. 

Of  course  I  even  then  knew  them  posters  was  not 
real  art,  because  I  had  seen  postals  of  the  Sistine  Ma- 
donna and  the  Broken  Pitcher  and  Rheims  Cathedral 
and  so  forth,  pop  having  carried  quite  a  line  of  them 
at  Christmas  time.  And  besides,  these  posters  was  in- 
teresting, which  of  course  let  them  out  of  the  art  class. 
But  art  or  none,  sweet  daddy,  they  looked  good  to  me ! 

Well,  I  rushed  right  home  when  I  come  out  of  my 
trance,  but  without  the  butter. 

"Mommer!"  I  shouted.  "I'm  going  to  be  at  Grau- 
man's,  and  they  got  me  featured !" 

Well,  mommer  came  out  of  the  electric  kitchen,  which 


216  Laughter  Limited 

we  had  done  perfect  in  the  Late  Los  Angelean  period 
because  mommer  refused  to  stand  for  anything  antique 
in  that  direction ;  well,  she  came  out  of  it  with  a  bunga- 
low apron  on  over  her  rich  street  clothes,  and  her  cap 
over  her  perfectly  waved  hair,  her  face  all  glad  and 
excited  over  my  news. 

"My  Lord,  ain't  that  grand!"  she  says.  "Bonnie 
dearie,  we  will  of  course  have  to  give  a  big  theater 
party  the  opening  night !" 

Well,  mommer  knew  the  correct  social  ropes,  so  I 
not  in  the  least  reluctantly  consented,  and  we  sure  did 
have  some  party!  Nicky  asked  the  crowd  over  to  his 
bungalow  at  six  o'clock  for  sandwiches  and  cocktails, 
because  it  is  really  better  form  to  see  the  first  show, 
which  starts  at  seven,  and  eat  afterwards. 

There  was  Stricky  and  mommer  and  me  and  Bert 
and  several  others  especially  interested,  including  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Greyton,  all  of  us  of  course  in  full  evening 
clothes  and  all  our  jewels.  And  when  a  little  later  we 
stood  in  line  out  on  the  sidewalk  while  Nicky  bought  a 
couple  of  yards  of  tickets  I  sure  was  proud  of  our  ap- 
pearance. And  once  inside,  in  our  lounge,  I  kept  on 
being  proud,  for  even  in  that  magnificent-looking  bunch 
of  people  we  stood  out. 

They  say  that  in  the  old  days  the  Metropolitan  Opera 
House,  New  York  City,  on  an  opening  night  had  the 
finest  display  of  jewelry  and  dresses  of  any  place  in 
the  country.  Now  of  course  the  opening  night  of  a 
big  feature  fillum  has  that  out-of-date  opera  stuff 
backed  off  the  map.  Picture  people  have  jewels  that 
really  amount  to  something,  and  of  course  dressing  is 


Laughter  Limited  217 

with  them  a  part  of  their  profession.  I  felt  sure  that 
there  had  never  been  anything  like  the  display  at  Grau- 
man's,  pulled  off  at  the  little  old  Metropolitan.  And 
when  I  asked  Mr.  Greyton,  who  is  a  New  Yorker,  if 
that  was  the  case,  he  says  why  certainly  there  was  never 
anything  like  it  at  any  opera  he  ever  saw. 

Well,  sweet  daddy,  here  I  was  not  alone  sitting  in  at 
one  of  the  big  social  features,  but  featured  at  it! 
Pretty  poor,  I'll  say  not!  And  the  picture  went  over 
big,  those  in  the  audience  clapping  when  their  friends 
showed  on  the  screen,  the  same  as  the  first  entrance  in 
a  speaking  theater,  but  in  as  intimate  a  tone  as  the  home 
folks  greeting  friend  daughter's  appearance  on  a  Stony- 
brook  Dramatic  Club  night.  I  hardly  knew  where  I 
was,  it  was  like  a  dream  or  something  with  Bert  sit- 
ting one  side  of  me,  his  glasses  falling  off  his  nose 
and  saying,  "Immense!  Immense!"  just  like  the  old 
days  except  for  perfect  evening  clothes,  and  on  my 
other  side  Mr.  Greyton  murmuring  some  polite  dope 
once  in  a  while.  And  then  during  the  intermission  I 
caught  sight  of  Mr.  Silvermount  himself  in  a  loge 
across  the  way. 

He  had  Trixie  and  Anita  with  him  and  a  couple  of 
Johns,  and  for  a  minute  I  didn't  know  would  he  bow 
or  not.  But  he  did,  and  not  alone  bowed  but  waved 
and  smiled  as  well.  Not  so  Trixie,  but  what  could  a 
person  expect  ?  I  was  all  set  for  her  to  look  the  other 
way,  because  every  time  I  had  telephoned  her  lately 
she  had  been  out,  even  when  she  answered  the  phone 
herself. 

How  Benny  Silvermount  would  act  had  been  doubt- 


218  Laughter  Limited 

f  ul  up  to  then.  Not  that  he  especially  cared  about  me, 
or  so  I  then  supposed,  but  everybody  was  talking  of 
how  hard  he  had  taken  Nickolls'  leaving  him,  so  I 
thought  maybe  I  would  be  in  very  wrong,  too,  on  ac- 
count of  being  with  Nicky.  But  evidently  I  was  on 
bowing  terms,  and  so  I  bowed  and  smiled  back,  and 
folks  in  the  audience  looked,  and  some  recognized  me 
and  there  was  actually  a  little  clapping,  but  I  couldn't 
of  got  up  and  bowed  like  mommer  wanted  me,  to  save 
my  life. 

Well,  the  picture  going  over  so  big,  we  made  a  cele- 
bration of  it,  getting  over  to  Marcel's  to  dinner  about 
quarter  to  ten  o'clock,  and  dancing  until  closing,  and 
when  I  got  home  I  thought  thank  Gawd  I  do  not  have 
to  work  to-morrow.  Nicky  will  be  making  mob  scenes 
and  I  can  sleep,  and  so  fell  into  bed  to  dream,  but  never 
dreaming  of  what  would  happen  next  day. 


CHAPTER  XX 

VI7HEN  I  woke  up  it  was  early  afternoon,  and 
mommer  was  standing  by  me  with  a  cup  of 
coffee  and  a  bran  biscuit,  which  hearty  meal  was  all 
she  ever  let  me  have  for  breakfast. 

"Sorry  I  have  to  wake  you  up,  Bonnie  dear,"  she 
says.  "Sleep  is  so  good  for  your  face.  But  Mr.  Silver- 
mount  telephoned  he  was  running  out  to  see  you  on 
important  private  business,  and  I  think  you  better  get 
up !" 

"Benny  Silvermount  coming  here !"  I  says.  "What 
can  he  want !" 

"I  dunno!"  says  mommer.  "But  leave  him  come! 
They  say  you'd  better  be  off  with  the  old  love  before 
you're  on  with  the  new,  but  I  always  say,  suppose  you 
get  off  with  the  old,  and  then  the  new  love  don't  come 
across  ?" 

"Oh,  mommer,  how  you  talk!"  I  says.  "I  am  going 
to  stay  with  Nicky  forever !" 

But  I  scrambled  out  of  the  hay  mighty  pronto,  just 
the  same,  and  was  barely  ready  by  the  time  Big  Ben 
parked  his  queer-looking  foreign  boat  against  our  curb, 
and  Benny,  who  was  alone,  jazzed  our  antique  knocker. 

"Mrs.  Delane,  I  want  to  talk  to  Miss  McFadden 
alone,  if  you  please,"  he  says  as  he  come  in. 

"Oh,  very  well!"  says  mommer.  "I  am  sure  my 
219 


220  Laughter  Limited 

daugh-ter—  Well,  if  you  will  just  excuse  me,  please, 
I  got  something  to  attend  to  upstairs!"  And  that  is 
the  nearest  to  floored  I  ever  seen  mommer.  The  min- 
ute the  door  was  shut  on  her  Benny  come  down  to  brass 
tacks.  I  could  see  he  was  dead  serious. 

"Look  here  Miss — Delane!"  he  says.  "Are  you 
stuck  on  Nickolls?" 

"I  am  not!"  I  says.  "But  I  don't  see  how  it  would 
be  your  affair,  Mr.  Silvermount,  if  I  was!" 

"Humph,  that's  good!"  he  says.  "It  makes  things 
a  whole  lot  simpler.  How  long  are  you  tied  up  to 
him  for?" 

"Three  pictures,"  I  says. 

"Too  many!"  says  he.  "Break  your  contract  and 
come  back  to  us.  I'll  give  you  double  whatever  he's 
paying  you !" 

Well,  for  a  minute  I  thought  he  was  cuckoo  or 
something.  But  Benny  Silvermount  was  the  least 
cuckoo  man  in  Hollywood,  anybody  knew  that.  His 
eyes  was  like  steel  gimlets,  and  I  felt  as  if  he  could  see 
my  backbone.  It  sort  of  had  me  stopped,  and  for  a 
minute  I  couldn't  speak.  Not  so  Benny. 

"Look  here,  Miss  Bonnie,  I  am  a  man  of  few  words/* 
he  says.  "I  want  you  back.  I'll  pay  to  get  you. 
The  Mischief  Maker  will  clean  up  a  couple  of  million 
or  I  don't  know  this  business.  Silvermount  Produc- 
tions made  that  picture  and  made  you.  It  is  your  duty 
to  come  back." 

Well,  that  last  brought  me  down  to  earth  and  I 
found  my  voice. 

"No,  Mr.  Silvermount,  you  did  not  make  that  pic- 


Laughter  Limited  221 

ture,"  I  says.  "John  Austin  Nickolls  made  it,  and 
you  know  he  did.  You  fought  him  tooth  and  nail  and 
every  step  while  he  was  shooting  it  too.  You  held  him 
up  on  the  money  end,  you  didn't  believe  in  it,  and  you 
said  so,  real  free.  The  picture  made  me,  all  right,  but 
it  was  Nicky  made  the  picture  and  I'd  never  of  been  on 
the  screen  if  it  hadn't  been  for  him,  and  I'll  stick  to 
him,  you  bet  I  will !" 

"So  I  didn't  make  that  picture — eh?"  says  Silver- 
mount,  never  moving  his  sharp  eyes  from  me. 

"No !"  I  says  hotly.  "You  peddled  somebody  else's 
brains,  that's  all !" 

Silver-mount  got  up  and  took  his  hat.  Then  he  come 
and  stood  close  to  me. 

"You  are  a  good  girl,  Bonnie,"  he  says,  "but  you're 
a  fool.  However,  I  will  take  you  back  any  time.  As 

for  Nickolls "  And  when  he  says  Nickolls,  Gee, 

how  his  map  did  change!  It  got  suddenly  wrinkled 
and  ugly  like  a  baboon,  and  the  steel-blue  lights  in  his 
eyes  was  like  knives. 

"Nickolls!"  he  shouted,  all  the  rage  that  had  evi- 
dently been  slowly  cooking  for  weeks  bursting  out  of 
him.  "I'll  break  the  idiot !  I'll  wreck  him  so  hard  he 
won't  never  know  what  hit  him !  I  made  that  feller, 
I  tell  you.  Took  him  when  he  was  a  mere  nothing,  a 
young  kid  starving  around  town,  glad  to  be  assistant 
camera  man  at  fifty  a  week !  I  trained  him  and  saw  he 
was  a  genius,  gave  him  publicity,  a  big  name — every- 
thing! And  now  look  what  he  done  to  me.  But  I'll 
fix  him  for  it!  I  could  kill  him  with  my  hands  for 
what  he  done.  You  watch  out,  and  when  the  smash 


222  Laughter  Limited 

comes  you'll  be  glad  to  jump  from  under,  and  jump  my 
way!" 

"We  can't  fail!"  I  says.  "This  picture  we  are  mak- 
ing is  a  great  picture.  It'll  go  over  big.  You  can't 
stop  it  from  succeeding,  Mr.  Silvermount !" 

"Can't  I  stop  it,  though!"  says  he,  still  furious. 
"You  just  watch,  that's  all !" 

And  with  them  words  he  beat  it  out,  slamming  the 
door  behind  him,  and  for  a  few  minutes  I  listened  to 
the  roar  of  the  big  foreign  car  as  it  rumbled  off  down 
the  street.  I  was  actually  shaking  with  excitement  and 
rage,  and  I  guess  maybe  I  was  a  little  hysterical,  too, 
for  I  got  the  cuckoo  idea  that  Big  Ben  really  meant 
what  he  had  said  about  killing  Nickolls.  The  idea,  once 
in  my  bean,  got  my  goat  thoroughly,  and  by  instinct  I 
went  over  to  the  old  dresser  where  I  kept  Nickolls'  gun. 
He  ought  to  have  it  back  again.  I  pulled  open  the 
drawer.  The  gun  was  not  there. 

For  a  moment  I  thought  I  must  of  put  it  some  place 
else,  and  then  I  remembered  clearly  how  I  had  put  it 
back  last  night  my  own  self.  Adele  hadn't  moved  it, 
that  was  sure,  she  was  too  scared  of  the  blame  thing. 
There  was  only  one  other  person  knew  I  had  it,  and 
where  I  kept  it.  And  as  I  stood  leaning  on  the  empty 
drawer  and  wondering,  mommer's  voice  preceded  her 
down  the  stairs. 

"Is  Mr.  Silvermount  gone  ?"  she  called.  "Say,  Bon- 
nie, I  forgot  to  tell  you.  While  you  was  asleep  this 
morning  Stricky  come  over  and  ate  breakfast  with  me. 
My!  Won't  he  be  surprised  when  he  hears  how  Sil- 
vermount was  here !" 


CHAPTER  XXI 

T  SUPPOSE  it  is  the  ambition  of  pretty  near  every 
-*•  honest  working  girl  to  have  moving-picture  mag- 
nates fighting  over  her ;  and  to  be  in  the  position  where 
she  can  spurn  the  gold  of  any  producer,  however  hum- 
ble, is  pretty  near  enough  to  turn  the  head  of  a  marble 
statue. 

"But  when  I  was  Helen  Murrell's  mother,"  says 
mommer,  talking  my  position  over,  "I  used  to  try  and 
keep  her  head  down  to  normal  so's  she  could  buy  her 
hats  standard  misses'  size.  They  say  pride  comes  be- 
fore a  fall,  but  I  always  say  not  unless  you  are  a  fall- 
guy  in  the  first  place.  Bonnie  dearie,  keep  your  heart 
humble  I" 

Well,  of  course  I  loved  mommer  and  all  that.  In 
fact  I  loved  her  so  nearly  like  I  would  a  real  mother 
that  I  didn't  pay  the  attention  to  her  good  advice  I 
might  of.  I  had  by  now  got  so  used  to  her  that  she 
was  a  part  of  the  family,  so  to  speak,  so  naturally  what 
she  said  to  me  was  for  the  most  part  like  rolling  stones 
off  a  duck's  back  or  something,  what  with  things  com- 
ing my  way  like  they  were.  I  don't  mean  Silvermount 
alone  either,  but  presents,  attentions  and  so  forth,  al- 
though of  course  Big  Benny's  offer  was  the  subject  of 
considerable  conversation  with  us  for  a  while. 

"Bonnie,  little  Bonnie,  I  suppose  some  day  I  shall 
lose  you!"  says  Nickolls,  half  laughing,  half  in  earnest, 

when  I  had  told  him  about  it. 

223 


224  Laughter  Limited 

"Lose  me?"  I  says.  "How  do  you  get  that  way? 
Not  for  any  reason  on  earth !  Say,  Nicky,  I'm  nervous 
about  Big  Benny,  though.  He  wouldn't  actually  try  to 
hurt  you,  would  he?" 

"Benny?"  says  Nickolls,  shaking  his  lion's  head  and 
roaring  with  laughter.  "Say!  That  bird  wouldn't 
strike  a  flea  for  fear  of  scratching  his  diamond  rings 
on  it!" 

Well,  that  idea  comforted  me  a  lot  and  as  time  went 
along  and  nothing  happened,  why  I  kind  of  forgot  just 
how  rough  my  interview  with  Silvermount  had  been. 
Every  day  brought  the  Cinderella  picture  nearer  its 
finish,  and  on  the  side  I  was  swamped  by  all  these  in- 
vitations I  am  telling  you  about,  including  even  one  to 
dinner  at  the  Greytons',  which  was  a  dry  affair,  more 
ways  than  one,  and  they  actually  played  charades  after. 
A  person  might  as  well  of  been  back  home  in  Stony- 
brook  ! 

Of  all  the  presents  which  perfect  strangers  com- 
menced sending  me  for  as  a  rule  advertising  purposes, 
but  mutually  so,  the  one  which  give  me  the  biggest  kick 
was  not  a  case  of  homemade  hootch  of  which  Axel  was 
the  proud  author,  but  a  flock  of  real  estate  that  was 
wished  on  me  by  a  hot  A-i  livewire  real-estate  de- 
velopment company.  The  goof  which  had  this  bright 
idea  of  giving  me  it  had  a  mind  trimmed  with  saxo- 
phones, a  suit  you  could  of  played  several  kinds  of 
games  on,  and  other  outward  and  visible  signs  of  pep 
and  enterprise.  But  there  was  nothing  to  laugh  at  in 
the  deed  he  brought  me. 


Laughter  Limited  225 

The  day  he  packed  it  around  we  was  all  seated  at  the 
luncheon  table  in  my  dressingroom  bungalow  over  to 
the  studio — Bert,  mommer,  Trixie,  who  was  now  sud- 
denly speaking  to  me  again  since  I  was  out  of  Silver- 
mount  for  good  and  all,  Axel,  who  had  a  heavy  part 
in  our  picture,  for  he  was  driving  the  coach  which  dis- 
solved into  a  pumpkin  and  back  again,  and  we  had  a 
trained  white  rat  doubling  for  him  in  the  pumpkin 
footage.  Well  anyways,  Axel  was  there,  Stricky,  of 
course,  and  one  or  two  others,  all  crowded  around  the 
two-by-four  table,  having  the  usual  picture  actor's  menu 
of  cigarettes,  black  coffee  and  lettuce  salad  without  oil, 
when  in  comes  this  bird  Al  Something  and  says  the 
Arroyo  del  Rey  Real  Estate  Company  was  opening  up 
a  new  high-class  residence  district  and  with  their  com- 
pliments presented  me  with  a  lot  in  it.  It  seemed  this 
development  was  out  on  the  Someplace,  and  was  cer- 
tainly fast-growing  because  it  already  had  one 
house  and  a  real-estate  office  on  it,  which  only  left  a 
thousand  acres  to  be  sold  into  hundred- foot  lots,  or 
bigger. 

Well,  at  first  of  course  we  all  thought  this  bird  Al 
must  be  kidding,  because  out  in  Southern  California  a 
development  of  that  or  any  other  kind  is  liable  to  be- 
come a  thriving  city  by  the  same  month  next  year,  and 
a  piece  of  property  in  one  is  a  real  sure-enough  present, 
no  fooling!  But  no,  he  meant  it,  and  the  gift  was  not 
a  ordinary  lot,  but  a  five  acre  ranch  with  a  house 
on  it. 

"It's  a  cute  little  Mission-style  two  room  bungalow, 


226  Laughter  Limited 

Miss  Delane,"  says  this  Al,  "with  old  vines  on  it,  and 
real  old  trees — must  be  eight  or  ten  years  old,  some  of 
those  trees.  And  there  is  a  fine  little  olive  orchard 
planted  to  the  one  side  of  the  house!" 

"Good-land !"  says  mommer,  seizing  the  deed  to  this 
property  and  smelling  of  it,  and  she  come  pretty  near 
biting  it,  even,  to  make  sure  it  was  real.  "What  on 
earth  does  Bonnie  have  to  do  to  get  this,  dear  Mr.  Al  ? 
My  little  daughter  is  so  young — only  sixteen — that  I 
prefer  to  do  all  the  talking  for  her!" 

"She  doesn't  have  to  do  a  thing,  not  one  thing,  for  it, 
Mrs.  Delane,"  says  this  bird,  which  his  name  ought  to 
of  been  Ernest.  "The  only  idea  is  this :  We  would  like 
to  use  her  name  as  being  the  first  one  to  buy  out  there, 
and  the  privilege  to  print  her  picture,  see?  And  say 
that  she  intends  to  work  the  ranch  herself,  see?  And 
allow  us  to  get  some  pictures  of  her  doing  it,  picking 
the  fruit  or  something,  see?" 

"Say,"  says  Rolfie,  who  was  there  too— "say,  we 
could  play  that  up  fine,  Bonnie.  It's  a  new  publicity 
line  for  us  as  well.  You  in  overalls.  Great  stuff !" 

"Immense,  simply  immense!"  says  Bert.  "I  will 
make  some  wonderful  stills  of  her  plucking  her  crop 
of  olives.  Immense!" 

"Oh,  dear,  but  when  you  get  through  taking  those 
stills,  which  it's  the  truth  you  could  make  them  better 
right  here  on  the  lot,"  says  I,  affecting  languor,  "what'll 
I  do  with  the  blame  place,  outside  of  paying  taxes  on 
it?" 

"Now  you  hush,  Bonnie  dearie,"  says  mommer  has- 
tily. "You  never  can  tell  but  that  a  little  place  like 


Laughter  Limited  227 

that  may  come  in  handy.  Obey  your  mommer  now, 
and  take  the  deed." 

So  I  reluctantly  took  it  and  then  this  Al,  he  took  his 
hat  and  his  departure,  and  a  lucky  thing  for  me,  too, 
because  even  a  talented  actress  like  myself  can  only 
register  an  expression  for  just  about  so  long,  and  I 
had  pretty  near  run  out  of  boredom  before  I  finally 
reached  for  the  papers  and  he  for  his  Kelly.  And  then, 
sweet  daddy,  but  I'll  say  we  held  some  celebration  when 
his  back  was  turned,  and  shook  hands  with  ourselves 
generally,  especially  Stricky,  who  kept  telling  me  he 
had  always  known  I  would  make  good  and  so  forth. 

But  it  wasn't  until  a  week  later  when  we  was  through 
working,  for  the  picture  was  finished  and  Nickolls  was 
by  then  doing  the  final  titling,  that  Stricky  says  to  me 
he  would  drive  me  out  and  we  would  go  and  see  my 
new  property. 

Ain't  it  a  strange  thing  the  way  a  perfect  day  comes 
to  a  person  every  once  in  a  while  for  no  particular 
reason,  but  is  just  a  gift  out  of  a  clear  heaven,  so  to 
speak?  Often  a  person  will  get  such  a  day  when  they 
least  deserve  it,  and  always  when  they  least  expect  it. 
Sometimes  I  think  God  deliberately  gives  folks  hours 
like  that  to  keep  them  going.  Not  that  I  was  having  a 
hard  life,  or  that  I  needed  dispensations,  but  you  get 
me.  Fine  as  things  was  with  me,  there  is  always  a  fly 
in  anybody's  ointment,  even  if  they  have  put  it  there 
themselves,  and  my  fly  was  that  I  was  not  sure  of 
Stricky's  love  for  me.  I  never  felt  ever  like  I  had  him 
cinched,  on  account  of  him  passing  by  all  mention  of 
getting  married,  and  so  forth.  And  this  uncertain  feel- 


228  Laughter  Limited 

ing  often  made  me  unhappy,  especially  if  I  woke  up 
and  thought  of  it  in  the  night. 

But  this  day  when  Stricky  drove  me  out  in  my  car 
to  the  Arroyo  del  Rey  Development,  I  did  feel  sure  of 
him.  Not  that  he  proposed,  but  I  just  felt  confident 
and  serene.  He  was  kind  and  sweet  and  acted  awfully 
devoted,  the  day  itself  was  extra  fine  even  for  Cali- 
fornia, the  road  a  good  one  the  whole  ways,  and  we 
had  one  of  them  feathery,  golden  times  as  per  see 
above.  Even  the  property,  when  we  at  last  got  there, 
was  a  pleasant  surprise. 

The  land  had  once  been  a  big  failure  of  a  ranch.  I 
guess  it  was  located  too  near  the  water,  or  something, 
but  anyways,  the  only  trees  that  was  any  good  were 
those  around  my  house,  which  was  as  yet  the  only 
house  there  and  it  had  evidently  been  the  one  the 
rancher  failed  in.  It  was  sort  of  a  failure  itself,  too, 
but  it  give  me  a  grand  feeling  to  own  it,  even  after  I 
had  eat  a  ripe  olive  off  the  tree  which  is  a  mistake  to 
do,  for  strangely  enough  they  do  not  get  the  very 
necessary  pickling  until  after  they  are  removed  from 
their  native  branches. 

Well,  after  we  had  looked  thorough  at  the  house  and 
the  view,  which  view  included  the  brand-new  Spanish- 
type  real  estate  office  on  the  main  four  corners,  why 
we  climbed  back  into  the  bus  and  Stricky  took  me  down 
to  Riverside  to  a  wonderful  open-air  hotel  which  was 
kept  by  a  sort  of  Dago,  I  guess.  At  least  I  know 
Stricky  says  we  was  served  by  Al  Fresco  or  something, 
but  it  was  good  eating,  and  we  come  back  home  after 
taking  our  time,  kidding,  laughing,  and  so  on,  and  I 


Laughter  Limited  229 

floating  on  air  generally,  perfectly  gloriously  happy 
when  I  reached  the  house  and  was  seized  upon  by 
mommer. 

"Good  land,  child,"  says  she,  "do  you  realize  that  this 
is  Saturday  night,  and  you  are  giving  a  dinner  at  the 
Ambassador?  When  do  you  think  you  are  going  to 
dress?" 

"Right  now !"  I  says,  nearly  knocked  cuckoo,  because 
I  had  entirely  forgotten  this  party!  And  I  was  not 
alone  giving  it,  but  it  was  my  first  real  important  one, 
and  Stricky  had  talked  me  into  buying  it  as  a  celebra- 
tion of  the  Cinderella  picture  being  done. 

"Say  listen !"  says  Stricky,  on  our  front  step.  "Do 
you  mind  if  I  don't  call  for  you,  but  meet  you  at  the 
hotel  instead?" 

"Why  no !"  says  I.  "It  would  be  better,  maybe.  The 
table  is  in  mommer's  name.  See  you  at  7  130." 

"All  right,  so  long!"  says  he.  And  I  watched  him 
swing  away  down  the  street,  flecking  his  cane  in  that 
snappy  way  of  his,  my  heart  fairly  following  along 
after  him,  and  mommer  unable  to  drag  me  in  while  he 
remained  in  sight.  If  I  had  known  what  was  to  happen 
a  few  short  hours  later,  would  I  have  felt  like  that? 
Sweet  daddy,  I  would  not  say  so! 

Well,  as  I  am  telling  you,  the  first  Nickolls  super- 
production,  Alias  Cinderella,  was  now  all  made,  and  it 
was  a  bear.  The  photography  was  something  grand, 
for  Joe,  our  camera  man,  knew  his  work,  and  beside, 
Nicky  had  made  him  use  one  of  these  angora  lenses 
that  make  everything  long-haired-looking.  It  was  the 
very  latest  in  art-photography,  without  a  doubt.  The 


230  Laughter  Limited 

building  had  all  been  a  success,  especially  our  mil- 
lion-dollar collapsible  medieval  castle  set,  which  had 
actually  cost  three  thousand  dollars  in  money  but  good 
taste  had  raised  the  value  like  I  said.  The  costumes 
was  wonderful,  and  the  direction  the  best  that  Nicky 
had  done  as  yet,  which  all  the  trade  admitted  was  going 
some. 

When  it  come  to  acting,  why  it  is  difficult  for  me  to 
say  anything  on  account  of  how  I  do  despise  a  star 
which  thinks  they  are  the  whole  cheese  and  takes  all 
the  credit.  So  I  will  merely  pass  along  the  remarks 
of  others,  which  were  universally  to  the  effect  that 
fine  as  the  pictures  was,  it  would  of  been  nothing  with- 
out me. 

Everybody  on  our  corner  of  the  Brunton  lot  was 
perfectly  contented  with  the  result  of  our  first  effort, 
as  were  also  all  friends  and  relations  and  outsiders 
who  had  been  sneaked  in  against  the  rules  to  see  it.  It 
was  a  haymaker,  without  a  doubt,  and  there  was  no 
nervousness  about  whether  the  distributors  would  take 
it  or  not.  All  that  remained  was  to  show  it  to  them, 
watch  'em  drop  dead,  and  when  they  recovered,  accept 
their  check  and  commence  work  on  the  next  story. 

Well,  this  being  how  things  were,  why  naturally  it 
seemed  a  good  time  for  me  to  burst  upon  society  with 
my  initiation  blowout  as  you  might  call  it,  and  so  I 
had  invited  all  who  had  been  good  to  me,  but  for  Holly- 
wood, it  was  not  such  a  mixed  crowd,  at  that. 

Saturday  night  is  Ambassador  night  on  the  Coast,  as 
you  undoubtedly  know,  and  when  I  and  mommer  en- 
tered the  great,  glorious  and  gay  cocoanut  room  in 


Laughter  Limited  231 

plenty  of  time  to  receive  our  guests,  it  sure  was  some 
sight  to  behold.  I  was  in  the  most  wonderful  mood 
and  also  a  quiet  little  dress  of  peach-colored  spangles 
and  a  green  ostrich  fan,  very  girlish  and  modest,  while 
mommer  wore  gray  satin. 

Well,  didn't  I  just  hate  having  the  head  captain  bow 
me  to  my  prominent  table  and  all?  I  sure  got  a  big 
kick  out  of  it,  even  although  the  eats  was  going  to  be 
ten  a  cover.  And  pretty  soon  our  guests  commenced 
arriving,  and  other  people  also,  and  when  I  looked 
around  I  thought,  well,  Wallace  Reid  may  be  at  the 
next  table  and  Chaplin  just  beyond,  but  I'm  not  so 
poor  off  myself,  and  closer  to  the  dancing  floor,  at 
that!  Also  I  had  with  me  the  Greytons,  and  Jack 
Blum  and  his  Leghorn,  and  both  of  the  Truemans, 
Slim  Rolf  and  Bert  of  course,  and  that  Barred  Rock 
chicken  friend  of  Blum's  for  Axel.  I  had  also  invited 
Major  McGee  that  used  to  bawl  me  out  about  my 
make-up  when  I  was  a  mere  extra,  and  didn't  I  rub 
that  in,  just !  Sweet  daddy !  I  was  very  refined  about 
it,  of  course,  but  quite  unmistakable. 

Besides  these  real  distinguished-looking  guests  of 
mine  there  was  yet  to  come  two  which  was  the  most 
important  to  me,  the  great  John  Austin  Nickolls  him- 
self, and  my  Stricky,  who  was  scheduled  to  pack  in  the 
cocktails.  Their  vacant  chairs  made  the  whole  table 
look  empty  to  my  eyes,  and  as  the  long  minutes  slipped 
by  without  them  showing,  the  evening  commenced  to 
go  sour  for  me.  Maybe  you  know  the  feeling  I  had, 
talking  to  the  ones  at  the  table,  laughing  like  a  automat, 
and  craning  my  neck  and  eyes  both  towards  the  door 


232  Laughter  Limited 

all  the  time,  my  heart  giving  a  jump  every  time  a  hand- 
some man  showed  up  between  the  hat-check  boys,  only 
to  sink  again  when  it  turned  out  to  be  merely  Doug 
Fairbanks  or  someone.  The  waiters  served  the  soup 
in  spite  of  me  who  was  trying  to  wait  for  cocktails, 
and  then,  just  as  I  had  about  decided  Stricky  was  dy- 
ing of  an  accident  in  some  hospital,  I  seen  him  come  in 
the  door. 

At  the  sight  a  sweet  feeling  of  sudden  ease  and  re- 
lief come  over  me,  and  then  as  he  approached  a  cold 
hand  clutched  my  heart,  for  Stricky  was  drunk  as  a 
fool,  and  he  had  Anita  Lauber  with  him. 

Now  I  had  on  purpose  not  asked  Anita  to  my  party. 
I  just  couldn't,  somehow,  out  of  respect  to  what  Mrs. 
Greyton,  who  was  certainly  a  perfect  lady,  might  feel. 
Also  somewhat  on  account  of  my  own  self.  It  is  hard 
to  write  a  crabby  thing  like  that  without  appearing  to 
be  a  awful  prune,  and  somehow  feeling  I  had  ought  to 
apologize  for  my  morality.  I  don't  know  what  it  was 
ailed  me,  New  England  or  something,  but  I  couldn't 
help  feeling  that  way,  and  any  intelligent  public  will 
understand.  I  was  fond  of  Anita  and  would  not  of 
gone  back  on  her  in  any  jam  she  might  be  in  and  so 
forth.  But  asking  her  to  my  party  was  entirely  dif- 
ferent and  I  had  not  done  it. 

However,  there  she  was,  both  she  and  Strick  as  wet 
as  a  bootlegger  with  seven  legged  boots,  and  what  was 
I  to  do  ?  Somehow  or  other  I  kept  my  face,  even  when 
Stricky  took  the  place  beside  me  which  I  had  meant 
for  Nickolls,  and  put  Anita  next  to  him. 

Sick?    Sweet  daddy!    Terrible  thoughts  commenced 


Laughter  Limited  233 

racing  through  my  head,  and  yet  I  had  to  keep  smiling! 
Where  had  these  two  been?  How  come  they  was  to- 
gether? So  this  was  why  Strick  had  excused  himself 
from  escorting  me  and  mommer  over  to  the  hotel — he 
had  planned  all  along  to  bring  her !  It  was  like  knives 
going  through  me,  these  thoughts  was.  I  could  not  eat. 
I  sat  there  in  the  middle  of  the  enormous  gay  room  with 
its  lights  and  music  and  laughing  voices,  a  regular 
dumb-bell. 

"Say,  listen!"  says  Stricky  to  me  in  a  thick  voice. 
"Ain't  you  glad  to  see  your  old  pal?  Speak  to  her, 
can't  you  ?" 

"Hello,  Anita,"  I  says  over  his  body,  and  wishing  it 
was  his  dead  one.  "Have  you  got  your  stage  make-up 
on,  dear?" 

"Oh,  Bonnie  darling,  how  bad  you  look  to-night!" 
says  she.  "Ain't  you  feeling  well,  dear?  I  think  it 
was  so  sweet  of  Stricky  to  insist  on  me  coming  to  his 
party.  But  then  he  is  awful  good  to  me!"  she  ended 
with  a  silly  laugh. 

So  that  was  it!  His  party!  He  was  good  to  her! 
For  a  minute  I  felt  I  couldn't  bear  it,  and  I  turned  to 
him  in  a  sharp  undertone. 

"Gregory  Strickland,  how  dared  you !"  I  says. 

"Say,  listen!"  says  Strickland  roughly.  "You  shut 
up!  You  make  me  sick,  Bonnie.  I'm  through,  and  if 
you  pull  any  nonsense  about  it  I'll  start  something, 
see?" 

He  made  a  swift  gesture  to  his  hip  and  I  saw  that 
what  he  had  there  was  not  the  conventional  flask,  but 
a  gun— my  gun,  or  rather,  Nickolls'.  Then  he  turned 


234  Laughter  Limited 

his  shoulder  and  started  talking  to  Anita  in  a  whisper, 
swaying.  A  new,  strange,  horrible  man. 

For  a  moment  my  head  kind  of  swam.  If  he  had 
actually  pulled  the  gun  I  could  not  of  been  more  terri- 
fied. I  had  been  morally  sure  that  Stricky  had  that 
gun,  but  not  quite.  And  now  it  was  a  positive  fact 
that  Stricky  was,  among  other  things,  a  thief. 

The  fact  of  his  dishonesty  was  the  least  of  my  wor- 
ries right  then,  however,  because  what  might  he  not 
do  with  the  revolver  in  a  drunken  fit?  If  only  I  could 
get  it  away  from  him!  If  only  Nicky  would  show, 
perhaps  he  would  be  able  to  help,  would  know  what  to 
do.  But  for  some  reason  Nickolls  didn't  turn  up. 
Twice  I  sent  the  captain  out  looking  for  him,  but  it 
was  no  good.  He  wasn't  at  his  home,  either,  because 
I  got  Bert  to  phone. 

How  I  ever  got  through  the  rest  of  that  horrible 
evening  is  a  wonder  to  me  yet.  I  guess  a  person  who 
is  pinned  down  under  a  car  in  a  railroad  accident  must 
have  about  the  same  sensations  as  I  underwent.  But  I 
talked  and  my  guests  talked  and  we  even  laughed,  I 
can't  imagine  at  what !  And  then  at  last  thank  heaven 
it  was  time  to  go  home.  Somebody  says  come  on  let 
us  all  go  over  to  John's  place  it  is  after  one  and  all  the 
other  joints  will  be  closed. 

But  going  to  John's  place  would  of  been  one  too 
many  for  me,  so  I  crocheted  a  gag  about  well  home 
was  still  open  and  I  believed  I  would  go  there,  so  finally 
I  was  able  to  shake  the  bunch,  and  mommer  and  I  got 
in  a  taxi  and  started  for  home. 

In  the  cab  I  reached  blindly  for  mommer's  hand  and 


Laughter  Limited  235 

found  it  and  held  it  tight,  sitting  stiff  and  silent  in  the 
dark,  my  love  all  turned  rancid  but  my  pride  and  vanity 
laid  open  to  the  raw.  Through  the  thick  soft  darkness 
mommer's  voice  kept  bursting  out  every  little  while, 
like  lightning. 

"The  brute!"  she  says.  "The  hound!  What  did  I 
tell  you  about  him,  Bonnie  dearie?  Didn't  I  always 
say  he  was  a  cheap,  good-for-nothing  ham?  And 
a  dirty  low-life?  I  knew  it,  Bonnie  dearie,  I  just 
knew  it  and  I  always  did  say  so!  Now  don't  you 
grieve  over  him,  honey,  he  ain't  worth  it.  You  know 
they  say  love  is  of  man's  life  a  thing  apart,  'tis  woman's 
whole  existence.  But  I  always  say  if  that  was  so  no 
woman  would  live  to  be  over  sixteen !" 

For  the  first  time  her  voice  couldn't  touch  nor  com- 
fort me.  I  felt  transported  into  a  new  strange  world. 
Why,  everything  had  been  strange  all  evening !  There 
was  me  a  hostess  to  top  circles  of  picture  people,  to 
begin  with.  That  wasn't  normal.  Then  there  was  also 
me  on  the  edge  of  being  a  well-known  star  and  already 
announced  as  such.  That  couldn't  of  been  true,  either ! 
Or  me  riding  home  with  a  mother  of  my  own  to  a 
beautiful  home  of  my  own.  No,  no!  Small  wonder 
the  thing  went  and  crashed !  It  all  had  ought  to  of  been 
a  dream,  a  beautiful  dream  too  good  to  last.  Yet  here 
I  actually  was,  riding  in  the  taxi  with  mommer,  her 
strong  clasp  crushing  my  diamond  ring  into  my  flesh, 
my  expensive  dress  heavy  and  soft  against  my  knees, 
my  wrap  warm  and  perfumed  about  my  face  and 
shoulders.  Yes,  it  was  real !  I  was  Bonnie  Delane,  the 
Nickolls  star,  going  home  to  my  lovely  house.  The 


236  Laughter  Limited 

only  lie,  the  only  untrue  thing  was  Stricky  and  his 
ghastly  behavior. 

It  seemed  a  thousand  years  before  the  taxi  reached 
our  district  and  when  at  last  it  did  and  stopped  in  front 
of  our  place  I  got  out,  still  in  my  sick  dream,  and  stood 
helplessly  beside  mommer  while  she  paid  the  driver  off, 
I  staring  at  the  house  meanwhile  and  dimly  realizing 
there  was  something  wrong  with  it,  but  not  what. 
Mommer  made  it  clear,  however,  the  very  minute  she 
turned  her  attention  towards  it. 

"My  land,  Bonnie!"  says  she.  "Did  you  leave  all 
them  lights  burning  when  we  come  out  ?" 

"Why,"  says  I,  stupidly,  blinking  at  the  place,  "I  did 
not !  At  least  I  don't  remember.  But  I  certainly  think 
they  was  all  turned  off!" 

Well,  the  house  was  lighted  from  parlor  to  attic. 
Every  window  was  glowing  and  in  many  of  them 
the  shades  not  even  pulled  down.  The  porch  light 
was  on,  too,  and  for  just  a  moment  a  person  couldn't 
help  but  wonder  if  maybe  the  place  was  on  fire.  But  it 
was  just  the  lights,  as  we  could  right  away  see. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

C<1T\O  you  suppose  we  been  robbed?"  I  says  as  we 

-*-^  hurried  up  the  path.  "And  they  left  them 
burning?" 

"Not  a  chance !"  says  mommer,  panting  along  beside 
me.  "Calif ornians  are  pretty  good  advertisers,  I  will 
admit,  but  I  don't  hardly  think  even  Californian  burg- 
lars would  go  that  far !" 

"But  who  could  it  be  at  this  hour?"  says  I.  "Oh, 
mommer,  I'm  sure  something  more  is  wrong !" 

"Don't  be  a  nitwit,  honey!"  says  Adele.  "Here,  let 
me  open  the  door !  Maybe  I  did  leave  them  lights  on, 
though  it  ain't  like  me." 

Well,  mommer  took  the  key  from  my  hand,  but  it 
seemed  she  didn't  need  it.  For  although  the  door  was 
shut,  it  opened  the  minute  she  give  it  a  touch,  and  we 
went  in,  shaking  like  a  loose-leaf  date  book  or  some- 
thing. 

Inside,  on  our  Early  Spanish  combination  hatrack 
and  umbrella  stand  which  I  had  got  to  keep  my  golf 
sticks  in,  was  a  strange  hat  and  coat — a  man's.  They 
was  thrown  down  on  it  any  old  which-way,  and  beside 
them  was  a  bundle  done  up  partly  in  brown  and  par- 
tially in  newspaper,  and  the  fortunately  dead  butt  of  a 
cigar  was  resting  on  the  newel  post  of  the  staircase 
right  at  the  feet  of  the  Milo  Venus  I  kept  there. 

"Well!"  says  mommer.  "If  it's  a  burglar  he  must 
237 


238  Laughter  Limited 

of  concluded  we  was  in  Honolulu  at  the  very  nearest!" 

"It's  no  burglar,  mommer,"  I  says,  my  heart  beating 
with  a  queer  conviction  that  something  was  about  to 
land  on  my  shoulders.  And  just  as  I  says  that  a  funny 
sound  come  from  the  direction  of  the  parlor. 

We  stood  still  as  stone  looking  at  each  other  in- 
tensely, and  pretty  soon  it  came  again.  It  was  a  snore; 
a  loud,  firm,  healthy  snore,  nothing  more  nor  less;  a 
practiced,  customary  snore,  and  there  was  something 
familiar  about  it  to  me.  Right  away  I  come  to  life  and 
started  to  investigate,  cutting  across  the  hall  in  not  over 
two  jumps,  pulling  the  parlor  portieres  to  one  side. 
And  there  sprawled  in  one  of  my  blue  velvet  Spanish 
chairs,  his  boots  off  and  on  the  hearth,  his  stocking 
feet  crossed  peacefully  upon  my  new  victrola  lamp,  was 
pop! 

"My  land !"  says  Adele's  voice  in  a  frightened  whis- 
per behind  me.  "Who  ever  would  of  thought  it  pos- 
sible a  person  could  sleep  in  one  of  them  chairs !" 

"Sweet  daddy !"  says  I  aloud. 

At  the  sound  of  my  voice  pop  come  to,  yawning  and 
rousing  himself  with  a  shake  like  a  big  dog,  just  in  the 
old  way,  and  also  in  the  old  way  taking  my  exclamation 
to  himself  as  a  well-deserved  warm  welcome. 

"Yi-hi !"  says  he,  bringing  his  feet  down  off  the  Vic- 
trola with  a  soft  heavy  thump.  "Yes,  Bonnie  darlin', 
'tis  your  sweet  daddy  himself,  come  all  the  way  from 
the  East  to  find  his  little  girl !" 

"Heavens!"  says  mommer.  "Bonnie  Delane,  never 
tell  me  that  is  your  father!" 

"That's  the  idea  I  was  brought  up  with,"  I  says 


Laughter  Limited  239 

briefly.  "Although  how  he's  traced  me  out  is  more 
than  I  can  tell  you;  or  how  he  got  into  my  house, 
either!" 

By  this  time  pop  had  not  alone  put  down  his  feet 
but  stood  upon  them,  twitching  his  baggy  trousers 
down,  and  running  his  fingers  like  a  comb  through  his 
mop  of  yellow  hair.  I  had  kind  of  forgotten  how 
handsome  pop  was,  but  being  reminded  of  it  by  sud- 
denly seeing  him  this  way  didn't  bring  any  enthusiasm 
with  it,  somehow.  All  I  could  think  of  was  bad  pennies 
and  returnable  cats,  and  so  forth,  and  I  begun  to  feel 
as  mad  as  anything. 

.  "Sure  I  got  in  by  picking  the  lock,"  says  pop,  smiling 
good-naturedly.  "A  very  simple  lock  ye  have,  Bonnie 
darlin/  for  one  that's  fitted  odd  keys  to  people's  trunks 
a  good  part  of  his  life.  Aren't  ye  going  to  give  your 
poor  old  father  a  greeting  at  all  ?" 

"Yes,  pop !"  I  says,  going  over  and  letting  him  kiss 
me  on  the  cheek  but  not  returning  it. 

"And  who  is  this  handsome  lady?"  says  pop  then, 
one  arm  around  my  waist,  looking  at  Adele  and  smiling 
his  very  best. 

Adele  blushed  under  it,  but  looked  as  pleased  as  an 
old  fool,  and  of  course  I  remembered  my  good  man- 
ners, stunned  as  I  was,  and  at  once  made  them  ac- 
quainted. 

"Why  this  is  mommer,  pop,"  I  says.  And  then  the 
minute  it  was  out  I  just  stood  there  staring  like  a  dumb- 
bell. 

"The  hell  you  say!"  says  my  father,  his  jaw  dropping 
and  for  once  in  his  life  all  the  wind  taken  out  of  him. 


240  Laughter  Limited 

Then  he  recovered  himself  and  a  twinkle  come  into  his 
eye.  "Sure  and  I  always  was  the  lucky  man !"  says  he. 

"The  impudence!"  says  Adele  with  a  snort,  taking 
offense  at  once.  "Bonnie  Delane — I — er — McFadden, 
I  think  that  if  you  was  going  to  ask  this — this  person 
here  you  might  at  least  of  told  me  in  advance  so's  I 
could  move  my  trunk  out  of  the  way!" 

"Adele!"  I  says,  leaving  pop  cold,  and  running  to 
her  in  terror.  "What  are  you  talking  about  ?  I  didn't 
know  he  was  coming  any  more  than  the  man  in  the 
moon !  And  you  will  move  out  of  this  house  over  my 
dead  body  only!  Now  for  heaven's  sake,  let's  sit 
down,  all  of  us,  and  find  out  where  we  are." 

Well,  we  did  that,  mommer  on  the  settle,  but  looking 
far  from  it,  pop  slumping  right  back  into  the  least  un- 
comfortable chair  in  the  room,  and  myself  perched  upon 
the  edge  of  the  refractory  table,  that  being  the  way  I 
felt,  and  for  a  minute  all  we  done  was  to  sit  glaring  at 
each  other  like  we  didn't  know  who  ought  to  start 
something,  but  each  of  us  feeling  perfectly  willing  to  be 
elected.  The  problem  was  really  mine,  however,  so  I 
cracked  the  ice. 

"Well,  pop!"  I  says.  "Will  you  please  tell  me  how 
you  come  to  find  out  about  where  I  was,  and  every- 
thing?" 

"And  where  would  I  find  that  out  except  by  the 
newspapers  ?"  he  demanded. 

"But  the  Delane !"  I  says.  "How  did  you  know  be- 
yond that?" 

"Well,  it's  a  wise  father  who  knows  his  own  child 
from  a  picture  in  the  newspapers,"  says  pop.  "But 


Laughter  Limited  241 

they  been  full  of  you,  Bonnie  darling,  and  it's  proud 
your  old  pop  has  been  to  point  them  out.  You're  a 
smart  girl,  Bonnie,  and  I  always  said  ye  had  the  great 
talent!" 

"Yeh,  you  have  proved  quite  some  picker,  pop!" 
says  I.  "I  suppose  I  might  of  known  the  papers  would 
let  you  on.  But  how  did  you  get  the  money  to  come 
out,  and  why  in  the  world  did  you  do  it?" 

"Hush  now,  Bonnie  !"  says  pop,  very  sweet  and  pa- 
thetic. "Sure  I  got  to  thinking  of  you  out  here  all  by 
your  lone  and  you  the  young  and  handsome  girl  that 
you  are,  and  it  worried  me,  how  there  would  be  no- 
body to  advise  you  about  your  money  and  so  forth.  So 
I  sold  the  little  shop,  and  here  I  am,  and  mighty  glad 
to  be  here  !" 

"You  sold  the  shop  !"  I  says.  "Why,  pop,  who  would 
buy  it,  with  all  that  mortgage  on  it  ?" 

"Well,  to  tell  the  truth  I  didn't  sell  it  exactly,"  says 
he.  "Bushwell,  the  old  devil,  foreclosed  on  me  at  last. 
But  I  had  the  laugh  on  him  in  the  end,  for.  I' 


disposed  of  the  entire  contents  for  two  hundred  and 
fifty  cash  money." 

"But,  pop  !"  I  says,  feeling  like  I  must  be  in  a  dream. 
"How  about  the  big  house?  Who  will  look  after  it  for 
Mr.  Sherrill  now  that  you  are  gci:e?" 

"Why,  daughter  dear,  the  house  can't  run  away,  can 
it?"  pop  asked,  kind  of  mildly  indignant  as  if  I  was 
to  blame.  "It's  stood  there  many  a  year,  and  will  for 
many  more,  I'm  thinking.  I  just  turned  the  key  in  it, 
and  brought  the  key  along." 

"Oh,  my  heaven  !"  I  says  with  a  groan.    "I  thought 


242  Laughter  Limited 

you  would  learn  some  sense  of  responsibility  if  you  was 
left  to  yourself.  And  look  at  you!" 

"There  now,  dearie!"  says  pop.  "I  have  certainly 
learned  my  responsibility.  I  come  to  see  clear  as  day 
how  I  been  neglecting  you,  and  that  I  should  come  out 
and  manage  your  affairs,  no  matter  how  much  work  it 
involves.  What  was  my  little  business  compared  to 
yours  ?  Tell  me  that !" 

"Your  duty  was  right  there  at  the  Sherrill  house!" 
I  snapped.  "And  you  know  it." 

"Why,  daughter!"  says  pop,  opening  his  blue  eyes 
very  wide  in  that  way  he  had,  like  a  hurt  child.  "Why, 
daughter,  surely  you  wouldn't  have  me  a  janitor,  while 
you  was  a  well-known  actress?  It  would  hurt  your 
position !" 

"Oh,  dear,  I  suppose  it  would!"  I  says  helplessly. 
"Somehow,  pop,  you  always  got  a  answer.  But  if  you 
think  you  have  come  out  here  to  live  on  me  you  can 
make  a  retake.  Nothing  doing." 

"I  was  thinking  I  might  go  in  the  moving  pictures 
myself,"  says  pop  cheerfully.  "They  say  a  lot  of  easy 
money  can  be  picked  up  in  them.  And  now  will  you 
explain  who  is  my  charming  wife,  over  there  with  the 
frown  on  her  that  don't  become  her  pretty  face?" 

Adele  didn't  say  anything  to  this,  and  only  moved 
her  shoulder  more  towards  him.  But  the  frown  come 
off,  I  noticed. 

"Pop,"  says  I,  "this  is  the  only  mother  I  have  ever 
known.  She  has  done  everything  in  the  world  for  me 
that  six  ordinary  ones  might  of,  and  I  love  her  a  lot. 
A  girl  has  to  have  a  mother  out  here,  and  she  is  mine 


Laughter  Limited  243 

and  nothing  will  make  me  give  her  up.  Her  name  is 
Mrs.  Delane." 

"Madame !"  says  pop,  going  up  to  Adele  and  making 
her  a  sweeping  bow.  "Madame,  I  am  proud  to  meet 
the  beautiful  mother  of  my — of — er — a  charming 
daughter.  Considering  we  have  her  in  common,  so  to 
speak,  I  hope  you  won't  mind  our  getting  acquainted!" 

"Sit  down,  do !"  says  Adele.  "And  don't  be  such  a 
clown.  There  is  no  camera  on  us,  Mr.  McFadden,  and 
you  can  act  natural,  unless  of  course  you  was  born  that 
way?" 

"No  matter  what  way  I  was  born,  dear  Mrs.  De- 
lane,"  says  pop,  "I  would  gladly  try  to  make  meself 
over  to  suit  your  requirements." 

"Well !"  says  Adele.  "I  must  say  that  never  before 
in  all  my  experience  as  a  mother  have  I  been  up  against 
anything  like  this.  They  say  truth  is  stranger  than 
fiction,  but  I  always  say  it  might  be  if  you  could  tell 
them  apart!" 

"Now,  mommer!"  I  says,  "don't  you  get  excited, 
dear.  I  know  I  should  of  told  you  about  pop  before, 
but  I  was  kind  of  trying  to  let  him  slip  my  memory." 

"But  I  am  in  a  real  difficult  situation !"  says  mommer 
unhappily.  "I  can't  stay  in  this  house  if  he  does.  I'm 
not  a  married  woman." 

"What!"  says  pop.     "Holy  cats!" 

"And  I'm  not  going  to  live  here  with  him,"  Adele 
went  on,  ignoring  his  remarks.  "What  will  folks  say? 
There's  your  popper  and  there's  your  mommer!  A 
fine  mess!" 

"I'll    say    she's    right,    pop,"     I    admitted    sadly. 


244  Laughter  Limited 

"What'll  we  do?  Before  you  answer,  let  me  again  re- 
mark that  Adele  and  me  will  stay  together.  And  what 
is  further,  I  don't  intend  to  support  you." 

"Of  course  not !"  says  pop  readily.  "But  how  can  I 
get  work  out  here  in  this  strange  place  where  nobody 
knows  me?  What  do  you  suggest,  Bonnie  dear?" 

Well,  when  pop  pulled  that  old  familiar  line  all  I  had 
to  do  was  close  my  eyes  and  I  could  smell  the  corned 
beef  and  cabbage  in  the  basement  kitchen  of  the  old 
Sherrill  house  back  in  Stonybrook.  I  had  actually  to 
grab  hold  of  my  spangled  evening  dress  to  make  sure 
it  was  not  my  gingham  house  wrapper.  There  come 
over  me  the  old  sensation  of  being  merely  pop's  daugh- 
ter ;  a  young  thing  accustomed  to  minding  him,  and  to 
taking  the  raw  end  of  it  for  him. 

Was  I  to  be  my  own  boss  or  was  he  to  drag  me 
back  into  childhood  in  some  mysterious,  sinister  way, 
and  make  me  his  slavey  again?  That  was  the  big 
question.  Although  there  wasn't  one  word  spoken  on 
the  subject,  the  battle  between  the  two  of  us  filled  the 
room  so  that  you  could  almost  see  it.  It  was  just  like 
our  two  wills  were  swelling  and  straining  until  we 
pretty  near  crowded  the  very  furniture  out. 

And  then  all  at  once  I  knew  I  had  won.  I  could  feel 
pop  give  in,  and  I  was  almost  sorry,  while  at  the  same 
time  immensely  glad  that  I  was  cut  loose  from  him  for- 
ever. I  was  suddenly  so  completely  free  of  his  will  that 
I  could  really  see  him  now  and  talk  to  him — you  know 
— like  two  human  beings  instead  of  two  relatives.  And 
he  could  never  catch  me  again  because  this  was  a  mat- 
ter of  my  generation  making  its  breakaway.  I  drew  a 


Laughter  Limited  245 

long  breath  and  opened  my  eyes,  which  had  up  to  this 
point  been  unconsciously  shut.  I  turned  to  pop  and 
spoke,  perfectly  at  ease. 

"I  know  just  what  will  suit  you  fine,  pop!"  says  I, 
smiling.  "You  wouldn't  like  working  in  the  pictures. 
It's  awful  hard,  really.  You  better  ranch  it." 

"How's  that?"  says  he. 

"Well,  I  have  a  beautiful  little  olive  ranch  up  the 
valley,"  says  I,  "and  I  will  give  it  to  you  free  and  clear. 
There's  quite  a  few  bearing  trees  on  it,  and  the  life 
would  be  ideal." 

"Why,  that's  so !"  says  pop  enthusiastically.  "I  al- 
ways did  fancy  I'd  make  a  fine  landowner.  And  all 
you  have  to  do  out  in  this  country  is  sit  and  watch  the 
fruit  grow,  they  tell  me." 

"Just  that!"  says  I.  "Here — I'll  do  it  now,  pro- 
vided you  will  promise  to  move  out  there  and  start  your 
ranching  by  noon  to-morrow." 

I  went  over  to  the  inquisition  kitchen-cabinet  thing 
and  dug  out  the  deed  of  the  Arroyo  del  Rey  Develop- 
ment property  and  handed  it  to  pop. 

"There!"  says  I.  "I'll  make  it  over  to  you  entire. 
Now  you  got  a  real  chance  to  prove  what  you  are 
worth." 

"Daughter  dear!"  says  pop,  taking  the  deed  in  one 
hand  and  my  face  in  the  other.  "Sure  you're  the  finest 
girl  a  father  ever  had !  I'll  make  a  fortune  off  them 
trees,  you'll  see,  and  you  will  never  have  to  work, 
after,  the  longest  day  you  live !" 

Well,  I  caught  sight  of  Adele's  face  behind  him, 
and  if  she  wasn't  mugging!  The  sentimental  look 


246  Laughter  Limited 

she  was  registering  had  ought  to  of  been  preserved  in 
a  blue  plush  album  with  white  forget-me-nots  painted 
on  it!  So  I  played  up  to  my  audience  a  little,  kissed 
pop,  and  then  we  all  made  for  the  hay,  pop  commenting 
loudly  on  what  a  fine  house  I  had,  and  so  forth,  as  we 
went  the  rounds  putting  out  the  lights,  which  he  had 
turned  on  in  order  to  give  it  the  thorough  once-over 
while  waiting  for  us. 

"I  think,  Bonnie  honey,"  says  Adele  in  a  whisper  at 
the  door  of  my  room,  "that  your  father  is  pretty  near 
the  finest-looking  man  I  ever  seen.  So  distankay!" 

"Yes,  he's  handsome,"  I  admitted  wearily.  "If  he 
was  as  hard-working  as  he  is  easy-looking  he'd  have 
old  John  D.  borrowing  pennies  off  him." 

"Well,"  says  Adele  with  a  sentimental  sigh,  "I  know 
they  say  handsome  is  as  handsome  does,  but  I  always 
say,  if  you  have  two  loaves,  sell  one,  and  buy  white 
hyacinths  to  feed  your  soul." 

With  which  she  kissed  me  good  night  and  left  me  to 
lock  myself  in  my  room,  all  the  sorrow  in  the  world 
rushing  back  upon  me.  And  as  per  usual,  when  I  had 
pulled  off  a  satisfactory  cry  I  got  up  and  took  a  good 
look  at  the  picture  of  Milton  Sherrill  which  was  on  my 
mantelpiece. 

I  had  made  up  to  Milt  for  taking  him  off  of  my 
bureau,  by  blowing  him  to  a  real  handsome  art  frame 
of  Spanish  leather,  to  match  the  Spanish  house,  and  he 
had  occupied  the  center  of  this  shelf  ever  since  we  got 
settled,  with  no  competition  in  the  line  of  ornaments 
except  a  pair  of  purple  china  parrots  and  a  brace  of 


Laughter  Limited  247 

wrought-iron  candlesticks,  called  that  way,  I  suppose, 
because  they  represented  a  guy  wrestling  with  some 
snakes  and  they  certainly  was  wrought  up  all  right. 
Well  anyways,  Milton  held  the  center  of  the  camera  so 
to  speak,  and  now  I  went  over  and  looked  at  him  as 
soon  as  I  had  dried  my  tears  enough  to  be  able  to  see 
him  good. 

Pop  was  from  home,  and  so  was  Milt.  But  pop 
brought  only  mean  memories  with  him,  while  with  the 
thought  of  Milton  Sherrill  come  a  sense  of  fine  things, 
such  as  clear  skies  over  the  cold  blue  of  Long  Island 
Sound ;  apple  blossoms  falling  on  my  bare  head  in  the 
old  orchard  behind  the  big  house ;  a  bird  singing  in  the 
early  morning  and  piercing  into  my  heart;  the  song  I 
my  own  self  used  to  sing  while  polishing  the  front 
door  knocker,  happy  because  it  was  on  the  door  to  the 
Dream-man's  mother's  home.  And  drool  like  that. 
But  so  important  to  remember!  His  straight  look 
came  out  to  me  from  his  photo  like  a  light  in  a  dark 
place.  And  all  of  a  sudden  I  knew  I  had  never  loved 
Gregory  Strickland  at  all. 

I  carried  Milt's  picture  back  to  my  bureau  after  a 
while  and  took  it  out  of  the  leather  frame.  Then  I 
took  Stricky's  picture  with  the  "Yours  to  the  end  of 
time"  written  across  it  out  of  its  solid  gold  frame  and 
slowly  tore  the  picture  up  in  little  bits.  Stricky's  nose 
was  left  all  by  itself  on  the  top  of  the  pile  of  scraps. 
So  I  tore  that  even  smaller,  but  without  wishing  it  was 
real,  or  any  other  feeling.  And  then  I  put  Milton  into 
the  gold  frame  and  went  to  bed,  strangely  tired  and 


248  Laughter  Limited 

quiet  all  over  my  whole  entire  body.  And  the  next 
thing  I  knew,  mommer  was  knocking  on  the  door  and 
calling  through  my  dreams. 

"That   Greg   Strickland  is  downstairs!"   she   says. 
"He  says  he's  got  to  see  you  quick !" 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

'  I  AHERE  is  a  custom  in   moving  pictures  called 
-••     shooting  at  the  moon,  and  said  custom  generally 
gets  put  into  action  when  the  scenario  department  is 
going  cuckoo  for  lack  of  a  plot. 

Well,  when  this  happens  the  gang  gets  together  and 
sits  around  the  office  and  says  here,  we  simply  got  to 
get  a  plot;  they  have  already  started  making  the  pic- 
ture, so  we  will  now  commence  crocheting  a  few  gags 
together,  come  on,  boys,  shoot  at  the  moon !  And  then 
someone,  maybe  the  camera-man  will  say  well  Bill  I 
think  a  good  idea  would  be  for  this  girl,  see,  to  be 
stuck  on  this  feller,  see?  And  then  the  director  will 
say,  sure  Joe,  but  he  can't  marry  her,  see,  because  of 
his  father's  will.  And  that  probably  gives  the  con- 
tinuity writer  a  hunch,  and  he  or  she  will  come  across 
with  say  I  can  improve  on  that,  his  father's  will  pro- 
vides this  feller  must  marry  a  certain  girl,  see,  and 
the  father  don't  know  that  this  girl  is  really  the  right 
girl,  see?  And  by  now  the  head  of  the  scenario  de- 
partment has  taken  his  mind  out  for  a  little  exercise 
and  it  is  just  beginning  to  get  warmed  up  and  so  he 
says,  all  right,  but  this  girl  knows  she  is  the  right  one 
all  the  time,  see,  and  only  pretends  to  be  a  poor  work- 
ing girl  because  she  don't  want  the  boy  to  marry  her 
for  her  money.  And  so  by  now  they  have  a  good, 
original  plot,  and  this  way  of  getting  it  is  called  shoot- 
ing at  the  moon. 

249 


250  Laughter  Limited 

Well,  the  morning  after  pop  unexpectedly  showing 
at  our  house  and  all,  I  was  in  a  position  of  having  to 
take  a  crack  at  the  moon  myself,  especially  when  mom- 
mer  says  Stricky  is  down  stairs  and  wants  he  should 
see  you  and  so  forth.  Her  words  got  me  out  of  bed 
like  they  was  a  derrick,  but  as  soon  as  I  had  put  my 
feet  on  the  floor  I  quit  cold,  and  sat  on  the  edge  of  the 
hay  thinking  rapidly  what  would  I  do.  They  had 
started  making  the  drama,  but  I  hadn't  any  script 
ready.  This  was  not  at  all  the  way  I  had  planned 
the  piece  to  run,  for  I  had  no  more  idea  that  Gregory 
Strickland  would  dare  to  ever  come  anywheres  near 
me  again  in  his  whole  entire  life,  than  I  had  of  asking 
him  to  do  such  a  thing.  My  first  thought  was  I  will 
not  see  him.  And  then  on  second  considering  I 
changed  my  mind  and  decided  no,  I  will  see  him  be- 
cause after  all  I  will  probably  have  to,  some  day.  And 
just  as  it  is  wise  to  get  a  cavity  in  your  tooth  rilled 
before  it  stops  hurting,  and  not  go  around  with  it 
open  and  liable  to  get  something  in  it  at  a  restaurant 
or  some  place  and  commence  throbbing  all  over  again 
when  you  least  expect  it,  so  it  is  a  good  bet  to  get  any 
other  painful  interview  over.  The  sooner  the  quicker. 

So  I  called  out  "All  right  mommer  I  will  come" 
and  set  out  to  make  myself  look  as  pretty  as  I  possibly 
could  so's  Stricky  would  thoroughly  appreciate  what 
he  had  lost.  And  then  I  went  slowly  downstairs  to 
where  he  was  walking  up  and  down  all  alone  in  the 
parlor  like  a  wild  man.  At  least  that  is  what  I  thought 
as  I  reached  the  lowest  step  on  the  stairs.  But  I  soon 
found  out  different,  for  Stricky's  steps  was  not  nervous 


Laughter  Limited  251 

anxiety,  but  jazz.  He  had  put  a  number  on  the  phono- 
graph and  was  snapping  his  fingers  to  it  as  I  come  in 
the  door.  This  was  really  more  than  I  intended 
standing  for,  and  I  pointed  at  my  early  Spanish  phono- 
graph with  a  dramatic  ringer. 

"Kill  that  number !"  I  says.    "I  can't  stand  it !" 

"Sure  I  will !"  says  Stricky,  obliging.  "What's  the 
matter,  honey,  got  a  bad  head?" 

Well,  for  a  moment  I  couldn't  hardly  believe  my 
ears !  His  manner  was  just  like  ordinary,  and  a  per- 
son would  of  thought  that  nothing  unusual  had  hap- 
pened. 

"Say,  listen,"  he  went  on,  "I  feel  great  this  morning, 
considering.  I  found  a  new  pick-me-up  that  would 
cure  a  wood-alcohol  case.  Let  me  fix  you  up  a  little, 
Bonnie.  Some  party  we  had,  eh?" 

"Greg,"  I  says  quietly,  "you  know  I  don't  need  any 
pick-me-up.  If  I  have  a  head  this  morning,  it  wasn't 
liquor  caused  it.  Do  you  remember  anything  you 
done  last  night?" 

He  got  silent  for  a  moment,  then  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders  and  give  a  little  laugh. 

"Oh,  that !"  he  says.  "You  mean  Anita,  I  suppose. 
Well,  what  of  it?  We  was  on  a  party,  that's  all! 
Forget  it." 

"No,  I  can't  forget  it,"  I  says.  "I  want  you  to 
understand  that.  I  am  through,  Greg." 

"Say  listen!"  he  says.  "Don't  begin  and  pull  any 
line  of  bunk  like  that.  A  party  is  a  party  and  any 
little  old  thing  is  liable  to  happen  on  it.  Besides,  what 
I  do  is  my  business." 


252  Laughter  Limited 

"That's  what  I'm  trying  to  tell  you,"  says  I.  "En- 
tirely your  own  business  and  none  of  mine,  from 
now  on." 

"Oh  well,  if  you  are  going  to  get  jealous,"  says 
Stricky,  "go  ahead.  I'm  fed  up,  anyways.  I  only 
came  around  this  morning  because  I  thought  we  might 
as  well  kiss  and  make  up.  It's  all  in  a  lifetime  if  you 
won't!" 

Well,  I  just  stood  looking  at  him  and  wondering 
did  I  really  know  this  man?  His  hair,  like  black 
glass,  was  the  same,  his  tie  was  as  perfect,  his  whole 
freshly  washed  effect  was  as  snappy  as  it  had  always 
been.  Even  his  fine  high  color  didn't  seem  to  of  been 
affected  much  by  being  so  wet  last  night.  But  I  didn't 
know  him  any  more.  He  was  just  some  stranger  that 
had  wandered  in:  a  objectionable  one  which  I  didn't 
care  to  get  any  better  acquainted  with.  Maybe  you 
know  how  it  is  to  stand  that  way  in  front  of  a  person 
who  you  have  wrapped  your  life  around  day  and 
night  for  a  long  time,  and  suddenly  see  them  clear? 
Sweet  daddy,  it's  a  queer  sensation !  The  only  satis- 
faction in  it  would  be  to  have  the  upper  hand  through 
the  other  person  still  caring.  But  Stricky  didn't  even 
leave  me  that. 

"I  see,"  says  I  at  length,  "that  we  had  come  near 
to  making  a  awful  mistake.  I'm  not  going  to  pretend 
I  will  ever  be  friends  with  you,  Strick.  As  for  our 
contract  with  Nicky,  I  don't  know  what  to  say.  I 
could  no  more  go  on  playing  opposite  you  than — oh 
well,  I  just  naturally  couldn't  pull  it  off,  that's 
all!" 


Laughter  Limited  253 

"Say  listen,  you  needn't  worry  about  that!"  says 
Greg,  sneering  his  eyebrows  in  a  cool,  unpleasant  way 
and  calmly  lighting  a  cigarette.  "Don't  trouble  about 
not  playing  with  me,  old  girl,  because  I  am  going 
with  the  Divers  Comedies  for  my  next  picture,  any- 
way!" 

Well,  this  pretty  near  took  me  off  my  feet,  for  I 
knew  Stricky's  contract  run  for  another  six  months. 
What  did  he  mean  ?  Nickolls  had  let  him  out  for  some 
reason.  That  was  of  course  good,  and  relieved  me 
from  a  lot  of  unpleasantness,  but  just  the  same  some- 
thing in  the  way  Strick  pulled  the  line  made  me 
uneasy.  It  wasn't  all  on  account  of  Anita  now  also 
being  with  the  Divers  Comedies,  either,  although  I 
will  admit  that  while  I  was  finished  with  Strick  for- 
ever, I  was  yet  female  enough  for  the  thought  to  give 
me  a  little  pang,  and  it  was  no  good  saying  to  myself, 
well,  all  right  you  can  have  him,  dearie,  and  may 
God  pity  you!  Because  while  of  course  I  made  that 
conventional  remark  in  my  brain  and  knew  it  for 
a  mighty  wise  crack,  still  my  vanity  hurt  under  it. 
And  if  you  are  a  woman  who  has  lost  a  unworthy 
man,  you  will  get  me  perfectly  if  some  other  woman 
has  beaten  you  to  it  and  grabbed  him  before  you  had 
the  chance  of  firing  him. 

"Greg  Strickland,"  I  says  slowly,  "I  am  glad  to 
hear  you  got  another  job  so  soon  after  Nicky  giving 
you  the  air,  which  I  suppose  he  must  of  done  this 
forenoon." 

"Air,  hell !"  says  Strick,  leaning  against  the  piano 
and  grinning  at  me.  "Say,  listen,  he  didn't  give  me 


254  Laughter  Limited 

any  gate !  I  just  grabbed  off  a  job,  that's  all.  I  got 
to  eat,  you  know !" 

"Stride!"  I  says.     "Whatter  you  mean?" 

"Don't  ask  me,  kid,"  says  he,  still  smiling,  and 
pointing  with  his  cigarette  over  my  shoulder  towards 
the  door.  "Don't  ask  me,  ask  Nickolls !" 

Well,  I  turned  around  bewildered,  and  there  in  the 
door  was  Nicky.  His  face  was  white  and  drawn, 
and  he  looked  ten  years  older  than  when  I  had  seen 
him  last.  All  of  a  sudden  I  remembered  how  he  hadn't 
been  on  my  party  the  night  before,  nor  sent  me  any 
word  about  why  not,  or  anything.  Something  had 
happened  to  him  in  the  meantime,  something  dreadful 
that  had  wiped  all  the  pep  out  of  him. 

"Nicky !"  I  cried,  running  over  to  him  and  grabbing 
him  by  the  lapels.  "What  is  it,  Nicky?  Oh!  You 
look  awful!" 

"Bonnie,  little  Bonnie!"  he  says,  putting  both  his 
hands  over  mine.  Then  he  stopped  short.  It  didn't 
seem  like  he  could  go  on.  Across  the  room  Strick- 
land's voice  was  flung  at  us  like  a  hoot. 

"Ha  ha !  I  guess  you  can  do  with  a  little  sympathy, 
eh?  Mister  Producer  Nickolls?"  says  he.  "So  you 
were  going  to  let  me  out  of  my  contract  because  you 
didn't  care  for  my  influence  on  your  lot !  Oh,  boy !" 

"So  the  dirt  has  got  around  already,  has  it?"  says 
Nickolls  quietly,  leading  me  into  the  room.  "You  are 
very  quick  to  blow  with  the  wind,  Strickland,  but  it's 
about  what  I  would  have  expected  of  you." 

"Say,  listen,"  says  Strick,  his  face  going  kind  of 
pasty  with  anger,  and  his  eyes  narrowing  down  to 


Laughter  Limited  255 

little  black  slits — "say  listen,  you're  through  telling  me 
what  I'm  to  do,  see?  Or  what  you  think  of  me.  I've 
taken  a  great  deal  of  language  from  you  on  the  lot, 
because  I  had  to,  but  now  I  don't.  And  just  kindly 
remember  that  I  didn't  have  to  accept  the  release  you 
offered  me  yesterday.  That  contract  is  sound  and  I 
could  sue  you  for  six  months'  salary  and  get  it!  I 
expect  you  knew  what  was  going  to  happen  last  night, 
when  you  offered  to  let  me  go!  You  knew  the  dis- 
tributors wouldn't  take  your  lousy  picture,  and  you 
were  trying  to  save  your  skin!" 

Nicky  went  as  white  as  a  sheet  and  the  strong  mus- 
cles of  his  face  commenced  working  strangely.  He 
looked  like  a  Japanese  war  god  or  something  and  I 
felt  terribly  afraid,  while  all  across  my  mind  blazed 
the  terrible  words  like  they  was  written  in  fire.  "The 
distributors  wouldn't  take  your  picture."  It  was  mon- 
strous, incredible,  there  must  be  some  mistake !  Nicky 
was  moving  slowly  towards  Strickland,  his  face  still 
working,  his  hand  clenched  down  at  his  sides  by  a 
terrible  effort  of  self-control. 

"You  swine!"  he  says  in  a  low  voice  like  a  lion 
snarling.  "You  low  swine!  That's  a  lie  and  you 
know  it.  The  picture  is  one  of  the  finest  that  has 
ever  been  made  and  you  know  that!  I've  endured 
your  crawling  around  me  as  long  as  I  can,  but  when 
you  accuse  me  of  the  kind  of  cheating  which  comes 
naturally  to  your  own  rotten  mind  I'm  through  and 
I'm  going  to  beat  you  up !  Come  outside !" 

"Bonnie!"  says  Strick  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 
"Make  him  lay  off!" 


256  Laughter  Limited 

Nicky  give  an  ugly  laugh  and  shot  out  a  big  hand, 
landing  in  Greg's  collar  and  jerking  him  away  from 
the  piano. 

"Come  out  of  this!"  he  says.  "Or  shall  I  have  to 
carry  you  out  before  I  pound  you  to  death  ?" 

"Nicky!  Don't!"  I  cried,  flying  at  him.  "Don't 
dirty  your  hands.  Please — oh,  please  don't  fight!" 

"Well,  I  don't  want  to  fight !"  says  Greg,  still  shrill 
and  high.  "Leave  me  alone,  Nickolls!" 

"Oh,  don't  kill  him,  Nicky !"  I  says.  "Please !  Only 
pretty  near  kill  him!" 

"I  can't  fight  a  squash  pie !"  says  Nicky  disgustedly, 
having  by  then  dragged  Greg  as  far  as  the  door.  "He 
won't  stand  up  long  enough  for  me  to  knock  him 
down!" 

"I'll  go !  I'll  go !"  says  Greg,  being  shoved  out  into 
the  hall.  "But  you  needn't  think  I'll  forget  this,  I'll 
get  square  with  you,  you  big  roughneck !  I'll  get  you 
yet!" 

"Oh,  put  him  out!"  I  cried. 

And  'Nicky  did,  sending  his  pearl-gray  hat  and 
yellow  cane  after  him  and  slamming  the  door  hard. 
Then  he  come  back  into  the  room  wiping  his  hands 
on  a  big  linen  handkerchief  and  smiling. 

"There!"  he  says.  "That's  the  first  thing  I  have 
enjoyed  in  twenty- four  hours!  It's  been  coming  to 
me  for  a  long  time,  too !" 

"Nicky,"  I  cried,  "sit  down  and  tell  me  everything ! 
What  has  happened?  Why  weren't  you  at  my  party 
last  night  and  what  is  all  this  about  Cinderella  ?" 

The  flush  of  triumph  and  satisfaction  come  right 


Laughter  Limited  257 

off  of  Nicky's  map  at  this,  and  he  looked  old  and  worn 
and  white  again. 

"Little  Bonnie,"  says  he,  "you  don't  think  I'm  a 
crook?" 

"Don't  be  a  dumb-bell !"  says  I,  "I  know  you,  Nicky. 
What's  all  the  dirt?" 

"Bonnie,"  says  he  heavily,  "one  thing  Strickland 
said  was  true.  The  distributors  have  refused  the  pic- 
ture!" 

"But  they  haven't  seen  it !"  I  gasped. 

"They  saw  it  last  night,"  says  Nicky  briefly.  "That 
was  why  I  didn't  come  to  your  party." 

"Sweet  daddy!"  says  I.  "How  on  earth  did  that 
happen?" 

"Benny  Silvermount  called  me  up  at  about  four 
yesterday,"  says  Nicky,  "and  said  that  he  had  to  go 
out  of  town  to-day  and  that  several  of  the  board  were 
free  for  the  evening.  Naturally  I  suggested  showing 
it.  Well,  I  did!" 

"And  they  turned  it  down  ?"  I  says,  stunned.  "But 
Nicky,  it  don't  seem  possible.  Why,  that  picture  is 
wonderful,  any  way  you  look  at  it.  They  must  be 
crazy !" 

"Crazy  like  a  pack  of  foxes!"  says  Nicky  bitterly. 
"They  knew  it  was  a  good  picture.  They  were,  acting 
on  Big  Benny's  orders,  that  was  all!" 

"But  why  should  he  order  such  a  thing?"  I  says 
hotly.  "Benny  is  a  business  man  and  that's  a  great 
picture.  It  would  earn  him  big  money." 

"It  will  be  still  more  profitable  for  him  to  keep  it 
off  the  market,"  says  Nicky  more  quietly  now.  "I'll 


258  Laughter  Limited 

explain  how  it  is,  little  Bonnie.  You  remember,  of 
course,  that  the  Big  Egg  threatened  to  break  me? 
Well,  he's  done  it,  that's  all.  He  knows  Alias  Cin- 
derella is  a  wonderful  picture.  He  even  told  me  so, 
frankly,  as  we  came  out.  He  said  it  was  one  of  the 
best  he  had  ever  seen,  and  that  you  were  superb  in  it. 
Thank  God  you  won't  lose  anything!  You  can  go 
right  back  to  him." 

"I  won't!"  I  says  indignantly.  "I'm  going  to  stay 
right  where  I  am.  With  you." 

Nickolls  smiled  and  patted  my  hand. 

"You  don't  get  the  idea,  yet,"  he  says.  "You're  a 
thoroughbred,  Bonnie,  but  unfortunately  there  will 
be  nothing  to  stick  to.  I'm  broke.  I'll  have  to  go  out 
and  look  for  a  job  myself,  and  you  will  be  obliged  to 
do  the  same." 

"But  Cinderella "  I  commenced  when  he  stopped 

me  by  a  gesture. 

"Practically  every  first-class  picture  theater  in  the 
country  is  controlled  by  either  Silvermount  or  Muro," 
says  he.  "And  those  two  concerns,  with  Knute,  con- 
stitute the  best  and  practically  the  only  distributing 
agency.  I  could  state-right  my  picture,  of  course,  and 
that  is  what  I  shall  do.  But  it  will  be  a  slow  business, 
and  the  chances  are  that  I  won't  even  get  back  the 
money  I  have  put  into  it.  Which  of  course  precludes 
my  going  out  after  new  capital." 

"But  can't  you  make  Benny  change  his  mind?"  I 
says. 

"Why  should  he  change  it?"  Nickolls  asked.  "He 
will  buy  in  that  film  cheap  at  the  end  of  six  months, 


Laughter  Limited  259 

and  reissue  it  through  the  Big  Three.  It  will  not  have 
been  hurt  in  the  meanwhile  because  only  the  program 
houses  in  a  few  small  towns  will  have  shown  it. 
Probably  the  Big  Three  will  retitle  it,  and  send  it 
out  as  a  new  issue.  And  in  the  meanwhile  I  will  crawl 
back  asking  for  work.  Damn  their  hides !" 

He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  his  strong  fingers 
clutching  at  his  curly  hair.  But  somehow  he  didn't 
look  broken,  even  in  that  position — only  slighty  bent, 
maybe.  I  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  he  looked 
up  into  my  eyes  straight  and  clear,  so  that  my  heart 
just  regularly  ached  for  him. 

"Nicky,"  I  says  solemnly,  "I  wouldn't  say  I  don't 
care  about  Cinderella's  not  getting  released,  because  I 
do — horribly !  But  I'll  tell  the  world  I  would  not  give 
up  having  made  it,  and  made  it  with  you,  and  what  is 
further,  made  it  right,  like  we  did,  for  all  the  success 
in  the  world.  It's  a  great  picture  and  you  know  it 
and  I  know  it,  and  nobody  can  take  that  away  from 
us.  The  experience  we  went  through  together  in  that 
work  is  something  to  keep  sacred  in  this  part  of  the 
country,  and  to — well,  to  sort  of  live  by !" 

Nicky  didn't  say  anything  for  a  moment.  And 
then  he  leaned  over  and  kissed  me  gently  on  the 
cheek. 

"Little  Bonnie,  thank  you !"  he  says.  And  then  he 
got  to  his  feet.  "Well  now,  I  have  a  lot  of  things  to 
attend  to,"  says  he  in  a  different  voice,  "and  I'll  have 
to  dust.  You  take  my  advice  and  go  to  see  Silver- 
mount.  Benny  has  his  eye  on  you  and  he'll  grab  you 
back." 


260  Laughter  Limited 

"Never !"  I  says  fiercely.  "After  he's  pulled  a  dirty 
trick  like  that  ?  Not  much,  I  won't !" 

"I  like  your  spirit,  child,"  says  he,  smiling  sadly, 
"but  it's  not  good  sense.  Think  it  over." 

He  started  for  the  door,  then  thought  of  something 
and  turned  back. 

"By  the  way,"  he  says,  "that  revolver  of  mine — 
would  you  mind  letting  me  have  it  ?" 

"Nicky!"  I  screamed,  a  sudden  coldness  coming 
over  me.  He  frowned  slightly  and  shook  his  head. 

"Bonnie,  Bonnie,  I  thought  you  knew  me  better!" 
says  he  reproachfully.  "I  wouldn't  do  a  thing  of  that 
sort.  Why  child,  I'm  not  a  quitter,  I'm  a  fighter! 
This  will  be  an  interlude  for  me,  that's  all.  I'll  go  back 
and  lie  low,  and  later,  try  again." 

"Oh,  Nicky,  excuse  me,  please!"  I  says,  half  crying. 
"And,  Nicky,  I  haven't  got  the  gun.  Honest,  I  haven't. 
Greg  Strickland  took  it.  I  saw  it  on  him  last  night. 
I'm  awful  sorry." 

"Well,  never  mind,"  says  Nicky.  "It  belonged  to 
my  dad,  that's  why  I  asked  for  it.  Confound  that 
skunk  of  a  Strickland,  I  don't  want  him  to  have  it, 
either.  Well,  so  long,  Bonnie,  and  don't  you  worry 
about  my  committing  suicide — I'm  too  interested  in 
pictures  for  that !" 

For  a  long  time  after  the  outside  door  had  closed 
upon  Nicky  I  stood  looking  out  the  window,  face  to 
face  with  a  nodding  spray  of  heliotrope  from  the  vine 
around  the  frame.  The  soft  wind  brought  in  that 
everlasting  smell  of  cedar  wood  burning  and  crude  oil 
and  dried  eucalyptus  leaves.  And  now  the  perfume 


Laughter  Limited  261 

of  the  heavy  heliotrope  clusters  too.  I  kind  of  bathed 
my  face  in  it  like,  not  trying  to  think  as  yet,  but 
feeling  awful  tired  and  let  down.  Far  away  at  the 
other  end  of  the  house  I  could  hear  voices  talking,  but 
they  didn't  mean  anything  to  me.  I  felt  like  nothing 
was  going  to  mean  anything  to  me  ever  again.  And 
then  after  a  while  the  door  to  the  hall  opened  and 
mommer  put  in  her  head. 

She  was  all  dressed  to  go  out,  and  looked  unusually 
snappy  and  attractive,  even  for  her,  and  if  I  had  been 
in  any  mood  for  it  I  would  of  asked  why  all  the  prink- 
ing? But  before  I  could  say  a  word  mommer  had 
the  floor  her  own  self. 

"Mr.  Nickolls  gone?"  she  says.  "Well,  Bonnie,  I 
been  helping  your  poor  dear  father  get  ready  to  move. 
I  just  gathered  up  a  few  odds  and  ends  we  don't  really 
need  down  here  and  they  will  make  him  a  lot  more 
comfortable.  I  put  together  some  canned  goods  and 
some  coffee  and  so  forth  in  a  basket,  so's  he'd  have 
something  in  the  house  right  away.  And  them  blan- 
kets off  the  spare-room  bed,  and  a  couple  of  sofa  pil- 
lows. And  I  thought  that  if  you  was  through  with 
your  business  affairs  you  might  just  run  out  to  the 
ranch  in  the  car,  and  we  will  take  these  things  along 
and  help  him  to  get  to  rights,  the  poor  man !" 

"All  right,  mommer!"  I  says  listlessly.  "Just  wait 
until  I  get  on  my  street  clothes." 

"Before  you  go  upstairs,  dear,"  says  mommer — 
"there  is  a  man  at  the  door.  He  says  it's  the  install- 
ments on  the  piano,  and  that  they  are  two  weeks  over- 
due." 


262  Laughter  Limited 

Well  at  that,  believe  me  I  come  to  sudden  life. 
Right  out  of  a  clear  sky  there  jumped  down  a  ghostly 
army  of  bill  collectors,  crowding  even  my  big  drawing 
room  and  shaking  unpaid  bills  at  me.  I  was  cold  with 
terror,  for  there  was  not  alone  the  piano  man,  but 
the  phonograph  man,  the  furniture  man,  the  notes  on 
the  car,  on  the  house,  on  my  ring.  There  was  col- 
lectors from  department  stores,  from  my  fan-picture 
photographer,  from  everywhere,  all  around  me.  I  felt 
like  they  would  suffocoate  me.  Due,  due — everything 
was  due — and  I  hadn't  even  a  job  any  more! 

"Well,"  says  mommer,  placidly  drawing  on  her 
gloves,  all  unconscious  of  this  imaginary  yet  real  crew 
that  was  attacking  me,  "I  said  the  cash  mightn't  be 
convenient  just  now,  and  he  says  he  will  take  a  note 
on  the  piano.  What'll  I  tell  him  ?" 

"Tell  him  to  take  G  sharp !"  says  I,  and  run  upstairs 
laughing  hysterically  while  mommer  just  stood  there 
staring  after  me  with  her  mouth  open. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A  MONTH  later  I  was  what  you  might  call  still  in 
**>  the  same  position.  By  which  I  do  not  mean  run- 
ning upstairs,  but  I'll  say  I  was  running  just  the  same, 
because  by  now  the  sheriff  was  about  one  jump  behind 
me.  As  a  matter  of  geography,  I  and  Axel  was  sitting 
in  our  bathing  suits  under  one  of  those  bright  um- 
brellas that  flock  so  thick  around  Crystal  Pier,  and 
talking  about  ourselfs.  Axel  had  at  this  time  just 
finished  the  heavy  part  of  a  footman  in  a  McGee  pro- 
duction where  he  would  surely  show  at  least  three 
times  during  the  picture,  for  as  long  as  five  seconds 
each  time.  But  Axel  wasn't  contented,  even  although 
I  pointed  out  it  was  at  least  a  part,  which  was  more 
than  I  had.  There  being  no  money  to  spend  enjoying 
ourselfs,  we  was  indulging  in  the  poor-folks  pastime 
of  belly-aching. 

"Ay  tank  Ay  fail  because  Ay  don't  speak  English 
so  good,"  says  Axel  very  serious.  "If  Ay  speak 
better  English,  Ay  betchew  may  life  Ay  got  better 
parts!" 

Well,  I'll  say  that  was  the  prize  alibi  for  failure  to 
progress  in  the  pictures,  because  lookit  Pola  Negri. 
But  I  needed  Axel  to  howl  to,  myself,  so  of  course  I 
had  to  agree  with  him. 

"It's  a  crime  the  way  they  don't  appreciate  what  a 
263 


264  Laughter  Limited 

wonderful  actor  you  are,"  I  says.  "You  ought  to  have 
a  big  future,  Axel." 

"But  you,  Bonnie!"  says  Axel,  plainly  pleased. 
"How  you  tank  I  will  get  appreciated  ven  you  don't? 
Have  you  not  got  anything  yet?" 

Well,  for  a  moment  I  was  going  to  pull  the  conven- 
tional "Why,  I  have  a  big  offer  and  while  I  haven't 
signed  up  yet,  I  expect  to  in  a  coupla  days."  Then  I 
considered  why  throw  the  bull  to  a  friend,  and  I  did 
kind  of  want  somebody  to  talk  things  out  with.  I 
had  Adele  of  course.  But  since  pop  had  shown,  I 
didn't  have  her  so  much  of  the  time  as  before.  Some- 
how it  always  seemed  like  there  was  something  out 
at  the  ranch  that  needed  to  be  done  and  only  mommer 
could  do  it.  Axel  was  about  the  only  one  at  hand, 
Nicky  having  gone  East  on  a  trip.  And  so  I  come 
clean. 

"Axel,"  I  says,  "honest,  I  don't  know  what  am  I 
going  to  do!  I  haven't  the  smell  of  a  contract,  even, 
except,  Axel,  the  contracts  I  have  made  with  install- 
ment people  and  so  forth.  Something  has  got  to  break 
for  me  pretty  soon  or  I  will.  Even  the  grocer  had  kind 
of  a  nasty  look  in  his  eye  this  morning." 

"Why  don't  you  hock  your  ring?"  says  Axel,  men- 
tioning my  big  chunk  of  ice  which  I  still  wore. 

"Installment,"  I  says  briefly.  "Just  the  same  as 
everything  else.  I  must  of  been  cuckoo,  I  guess,  when 
we  started  Alias  Cinderella.  Oh,  Axel,  I  don't  want 
to  lose  what  I've  gained — my  pretty  home,  my  car, 
everything!  Why,  I'm  pledged  for  them !  And  do  you 
know  that  after  The  Mischief  Maker  was  released  I 


Laughter  Limited  265 

had  all  kinds  of  offers?  Now  something  mysterious 
has  sprung  up  between  me  and  every  producer  on  the 
Coast!" 

"Except  one,"  says  Axel. 

"Except  Silvermount,  yes!"  says  I  fiercely.  "But 
I  won't  go  there!  I  won't!" 

"Big  Benny  ban  making  tha  other  fallars  hold  off 
you,"  says  Axel. 

"He's  got  some  kind  of  agreement  with  them,  I  sup- 
pose," I  says  sadly.  "But  it  doesn't  seem  as  if  I  could 
ask  him  for  work.  It  isn't  fair  or  right  that  I  should 
have  to.  Why,  I'd  feel  like  I  was  double-crossing 
Nicky  if  I  was  to  go  to  Silvermount  now." 

"Nickolls  don't  feel  like  that,"  says  Axel  unex- 
pectedly, reaching  for  the  copy  of  Wid's,  which  he  had 
brought  out  along  with  his  bath  towel.  "Ay  see  he 
bane  going  to  Artlife!" 

"What?"  says  I.  "Give  me  that,  Axel !  Oh,  Nicky, 
they've  beat  you  for  sure!" 

And  Axel  was  right.  On  the  front  page  was  a 
notice  about  how  Nicky  had  signed  up  in  New  York 
and  was  coming  back  to  the  Coast  to  make  some  special 
productions — a  new  line  of  stuff  based  on  classic 
literary  stories  and  plays,  and  that  he  would  use  a 
big  group  of  feature  players,  but  no  star. 

"Kind  of  a  stock  company,"  says  Axel.  "Veil,  Ay 
suppose  tha  fallars  with  the  name  gets  all  the  parts, 
youst  like  usual!" 

But  I  didn't  pay  any  attention  to  his  crape-hanging, 
for  I  was  inspired.  My  way  was  now  sort  of  cleared 
for  me.  If  Nicky  actually  felt  he  could  go  back,  and 


266  Laughter  Limited 

went  first,  why  so  could  I.  I  sure  did  hate  that  outfit 
for  what  they  had  done  to  us,  but  I  and  Nicky  were 
both  helpless  against  them.  We  had  to  have  the  work, 
and  didn't  they  just  know  it!  I  thought  of  mommer 
and  how  I  owed  it  to  her  not  to  stand  in  my  own  and 
her  light  any  more;  and  of  pop,  too,  who  of  course 
had  to  be  given  a  small  allowance  until  his  crop  was 
in,  and  believe  me  it  was  just  like  pop  to  be  the  one 
person  in  the  bunch  who  required  actual  cash  money, 
while  I  and  mommer  struggled  along  on  a  steadily 
weakening  credit.  And  so,  with  one  reason  and  an- 
other leading  me  on,  I  decided  to  go  up  and  see  the 
Big  Egg  and  tell  him  well  I  am  back,  the  prodigious 
daughter  and  all  that,  and  when  do  I  commence 
working  ? 

"Well,  Axel,"  I  says,  "I  guess  they  have  me  beat, 
too.  Temporarily,  anyways.  I'll  go  job-hunting  this 
very  afternoon,  and  in  the  meanwhile  I  have  got  the 
price  of  a  coupla  hamburger  sandwiches  if  you  have 
got  the  strength  to  go  and  buy  them — and  no  onions 
in  mine  to-day!" 

Well,  Axel  had,  and  little  did  I  think  the  day  would 
ever  come  when  a  ten-cent  hot  with  pickles  would 
be  my  honest-to-goodness  lunch  and  I  glad  to  get  it, 
and  even  less  did  I  think  it  could  possibly  be  the  case 
that  I  would  eat  such  lunch  while  a  enormous  white 
automobile  that  was  at  least  technically  mine,  waited 
parked  beyond  the  bathing  pavilion!  But  such  is  pic- 
tures, and  as  mommer  often  truly  said  "Spend  and 
the  world  spends  with  you,  charge  it,  and  you  spend 
alone." 


Laughter  Limited  267 

Well  anyways,  I  enjoyed  my  sandwich  down  to  the 
very  last  bite,  and  would  of  enjoyed  that,  too,  only 
just  before  taking  it,  I  happened  to  look  up,  and  who 
would  I  see  but  Anita  and  Stricky,  both  in  bathing 
suits  and  a  very  affectionate  manner,  parking  them- 
selves under  a  near-by  umbrella.  Well,  that  took  my 
appetite  completely,  and  I  got  right  up  and  threw  the 
last  bite  of  my  sandwich  away  and  ain't  Providence 
wonderful?  As  that  bite  of  sandwich  hit  the  sand 
I  seen  it  had  onion  in  it !  So  only  for  them  two  show- 
ing, I  would  of  eaten  it  unconsciously,  and  throwing 
it  in  their  direction  expressed  my  feelings  pretty  good, 
too.  I  never  saw  one  without  the  other  any  more,  and 
believe  me  when  they  hove  into  view  I  hove  out. 
Which,  as  Hollywood  is  not  a  big  world,  meant  that 
the  three  of  us  led  a  pretty  active  life. 

Well,  this  day  I  got  up  and  gave  them  the  beach, 
and  when  we  was  dressed  I  drove  Axel  back  to  Vine 
Street,  where  he  was  still  living  with  Mrs.  Snifter  on 
account  he  could  never  seem  to  get  even  with,  much 
less  ahead,  of  his  room  rent.  And  then  I  went  home 
and  dolled  myself  up  to  knock  Benny  cold. 

It  was  one  thing  to  walk  up  to  the  Silvermount 
offices  a  unknown  hicklette  from  the  East,  another 
to  arrive  as  a  star,  driving  my  own  boat,  or  so  it  was 
for  all  they  knew,  and  march  into  the  office  knowing 
I  was  doing  them  a  favor  by  coming  at  all.  The  girl 
behind  the  window  smiled  and  reached  for  the  push 
button  as  soon  as  she  seen  me,  and  I  walked  confi- 
dently in  past  a  lot  of  respectful  hams  which  was 
warming  the  mourner's  benches. 


268  Laughter  Limited 

"Who  did  you  wish  to  see,  Miss  Delane?"  says  she, 
confidential-like,  once  I  was  in. 

"Mr.  Silvermount,  please,  dear!"  says  I. 

"I  think  he's  here,"  says  she.  "Do  you  know  where 
his  new  office  is  ?  Down  the  corridor  and  turn  to  the 
left.  The  first  door.  You  can  go  right  in." 

This  was  news  to  me.  So  they  had  moved  the  head 
office  since  I  had  been  on  the  lot !  I  trotted  along  the 
dark  hallway  until  I  come  to  the  proper  door,  knocked, 
and  the  girl  says  come  in,  and  there  in  a  small  dark 
office  with  the  stenographer  right  in  the  same  room 
and  everything,  was  Benny  Silvermount  in  shirt  sleeves 
and  cigar. 

"Well,  hello,  if  it  ain't  Miss  Delane!"  says  he,  actu- 
ally getting  up  to  shake  hands.  "How's  tricks,  eh  ?" 

"Oh,  very  good,  thanks,"  says  I.  "I  been  awful 
busy — that  is,  I — could  I  talk  to  you  alone,  Mr.  Silver- 
mount  ?" 

"Why,  sure!  Sure!"  says  Benny.  "You  could  take 
them  specifications  over  to  Major  McGee's  office,  Ella, 
and  you  shouldn't  come  back  until  I  ring." 

Well,  this  Ella  went  off,  and  the  Big  Egg  drew  up 
a  chair  for  me. 

"Well,  now,  we  got  it  nice  and  cozy,  ain't  it?"  he 
says  amiably.  Not  a  bit  excited  over  me  turning  up. 
But  what  was  a  person  to  expect? 

"Is  there  now  something  I  could  do  for  you,  Bon- 
nie ?"  he  goes  on.  "It's  quite  a  while  since  we  seen  you 
around  this  lot!" 

"Too  long  a  while,  Mr.  Silvermount,"  I  says. 
"That's  what  I  come  about." 


Laughter  Limited  269 

"So?"  says  he. 

Then  he  frowned  a  little,  looked  at  me  like  a  ques- 
tion mark,  flecked  an  ash  off  the  fat  cigar,  reparked 
it  and  left  things  up  to  me.  I  begun  to  wish  right  then 
and  there  that  I  hadn't  been  in  such  a  hurry,  but  had 
waited  until  mommer  come  home  from  the  ranch,  and 
brought  her  along  to  kind  of  overpower  him.  But 
if  it  was  up  to  me  to  crack  the  ice,  why  I  would 
do  it. 

"I  was  just  thinking,"  I  says,  "that  I  am  about 
rested  now,  and  I  don't  mind  if  I  go  back  to  work. 
Provided  the  salary,  part  and  so  forth,  are  satisfac- 
tory, of  course." 

"Huhu !"  says  he  calmly.    "So  that's  it!" 

"Of  course  I  don't  want  to  tie  myself  up  for  very 
long,"  I  says,  "because  I  got  a  good  many  offers  I  am 
considering,  but  I  thought  that  after  you  coming  to 
see  me  the  way  you  did,  why  I  would  give  you  first 
chance  of  getting  me." 

"Well  now,  that  is  real  good  of  you,"  says  Benny 
politely.  "I  appreciate  it  a  lot." 

He  let  silence  flop  between  us  then  like  a  regular 
wet  blanket.  I  commenced  to  feel  uneasy. 

"Well,  Mr.  Silver-mount?"  I  says. 

"Well,  that's  just  it!"  says  he,  shifting  the  cigar 
to  the  other  side  of  his  face  and  chewing  on  the  end 
of  it.  "That's  just  it!" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  says,  nearly  wild.  He 
was  like  a  stone  wall — everything  I  said  to  him 
bounded  right  back  at  me.  "You  know  the  last  time 
I  saw  you,  you  were  acting  very  different,  Mr.  Silver- 


270  Laughter  Limited 

mount.  I  was  to  come  to  you  any  time — don't  you 
remember  ?" 

"Yes,  but  that  was  three  months  ago,"  says  he, 
like  he  was  referring  to  at  least  the  Middle  Ages.  "All 
of  three  months  ago !" 

"But  I  haven't  changed  any  since  then !"  I  told  him. 
"I'm  even  better  than  I  was.  Are  you  sore  at  me 
because  I  wouldn't  come  back  until  Nicky  did  ?  I  will 
be  honest  with  you,  Mr.  Silvermount,  that  was  what 
changed  my  mind." 

"Is  Nicky  coming  back?"  says  he,  sitting  up  in  his 
chair  sharp  and  sudden.  "Good!  That's  fine!" 

"But  sweet  daddy!"  says  I.    "Didn't  you  know  it?" 

"No,"  says  he,  sinking  back  again. 

"Look  here,  Mr.  Silvermount!"  I  says  sharply,  get- 
ting to  my  feet  and  thumping  the  desk,  and  believe 
me  I  had  him  cornered  and  he  knew  it  because  this 
was  a  small  quartered-oak  desk  with  no  hall  of  refuge 
under  it.  "Look  here,  what's  wrong?"  I  says.  "Are 
you  going  to  give  me  a  contract  or  are  you  not?" 

"Now,  now,  don't  get  excited!"  he  says,  showing 
more  life.  "No,  I  am  not  going  to  give  you  a  con- 
tract, but  don't  get  excited!" 

"And  why  aren't  you  going  to  give  it  to  me?"  I 
says,  near  to  crying.  "You  promised  me !" 

"I  know,  I  know,  but  I  tell  you  I  can't  do  it!"  says 
Benny  wildly.  "I  ain't  got  the  power !" 

"Well,  sweet  daddy!"  says  I.  "Why  not?  Ain't 
you  the  president  of  this  corporation  ?" 

"Sure,  I'm  president!"  says  he,  waving  both  arms 


Laughter  Limited  271 

like  windmills.  "But  now  I  am  it  in  name  only.  The 
stockholders  have  made  a  lot  of  fuss  and  nonsense, 
Miss  Bonnie,  and  they  sent  a  feller  down  here  to  take 
charge  of  finances,  and  he  thinks  he  can  run  the  whole 
shooting  match!  Everything,  mind  you,  he's  got  the 
power  to  do !  Why,  I  got  no  more  ability  to  hire  you 
than  a  cat!" 

"What?"  says  I.  "Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  the 
Silvermount  is  in  an  installment  collec — a  receiver's 
hands?" 

"No,  not  at  all !"  says  Benny.  "But  we  will  be  soon, 
with  this  know-all  running  the  place!  I  wish  you 
could  hear  the  things  that  man  asks  me !  What  ability 
has  such  a  person  got?  Why  was  that  one  hired? 
How  should  I  know  about  my  friends?  And  I'm  to 
tell  where  this  money  went,  and  why  no  estimate  was 
made  for  that,  and  where  the  appropriation  has  gone 
for  the  other !  My  heavens,  how  can  a  man  in  pictures 
bother  with  such  details?  Two  weeks  he's  been  here 
already,  and  he's  got  a  time  clock  on  the  lot  and  a 
filing-report  system!  He  thinks  you  can  make  pic- 
tures like  in  a  factory!  Let  him  wait,  that's  all!" 

"Sweet  daddy!"  says  I.  "But  surely  he  lets  you 
hire  the  hams,  don't  he?" 

"Not  much!"  says  Big  Benny,  collapsing  into  his 
chair  and  groaning.  "He  says  the  salaries  we  pay  is 
crazy,  and  he  must  O.  K.  every  cent  before  we  can 
spend  it.  Why,  I  couldn't  hand  you  any  contract  if 
you  was  to  pay  me  for  it.  He's  a  hard  nut,  that  feller, 
with  a  face  and  heart  on  him  like  a  stone.  But  you 


272  Laughter  Limited 

go  talk  to  him  if  you  want — and  say  nothing  about 
you're  a  friend  of  mine,  or  me  recommending  you,  if 
you  want  to  get  by!" 

"Whew !"  says  I.  "Well,  to  be  brutally  frank  with 
you,  Benny,  I  got  to  eat.  So  I  may  as  well  take  a 
chance  on  him.  Where  is  his  lair?" 

"My  old  office!"  says  Benny  sadly.  "Such  grief! 
Come  back  and  tell  me  if  you  got  any  luck !" 

Well,  I  flitted  out  and  down  the  corridor  like  the 
ghost  of  my  own  hopes,  and  stopped  outside  the  big 
carved  teakwood  door  of  poor  Benny's  old  room,  my 
heart  in  my  mouth.  The  typewriter  desk  in  the  wait- 
ing room,  which  was  usually  occupied  by  the  dentist 
assistant,  was  vacant,  and  there  didn't  seem  to  be  no- 
body about.  So  after  two  or  three  moments  alone  I 
thought,  oh,  well,  he  can't  eat  me,  and  if  I  don't  take  a 
chance  why  maybe  I  will  not  even  get  to  see  him.  So 
I  give  a  knock  on  the  teakwood,  and  almost  at  once 
a  deep  voice  says  "Come  in." 

Naturally  I  didn't  hesitate,  but  pushed  open  the  door 
and  entered  cautiously,  so's  to.  beat  it  quick  on  the  least 
alarm. 

The  room  was  exactly  the  way  it  used  to  be  in 
Benny's  day,  with  the  handsome  furniture  and  all,  and 
the  enormous  desk,  only  now  the  desk  had  papers  on 
it — lots  of  them.  There  was  only  one  person  in  the 
room,  a  man  over  by  the  window,  and  he  was  busy 
searching  through  a  portfolio.  As  I  come  in  he  put 
this  down  and  turned  around. 

It  was  Milton  Sherrill. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

/~pvHE  first  thing  I  thought  of  as  I  looked  at  Milton 
•*•  was  that  once  he  had  kissed  me.  You  see  if  the 
truth  be  told,  I  had  lately  kept  in  the  back  of  my  mind 
what  Anita  used  so  often  say  to  me  about  getting  a 
friend  to  help  you  in  the  pictures.  And  while  I  had 
nothing  definitely  decided,  I  had  the  idea  that  maybe 
it  would  be  necessary  for  me  to  do  just  a  little  vamp- 
ing. I  was  pretty  desperate,  even  for  a  woman,  which 
it  is  a  fact  they  get  that  way  easier  than  the  men  do, 
and  I  simply  had  to  find  work. 

Well  anyways,  that  kiss  which  had  occurred  out  on 
the  top  of  the  Sierra  Mountains  in  the  moonlight, 
come  back  to  me  the  minute  I  set  eyes  on  Milt,  and 
with  it  the  realization  that  here  was  my  chance!  He 
liked  me.  I  would  be  half  sold  to  him  before  I  started, 
and  if  I  could  get  him  crazy  about  me,  why  who 
knows?  But  being  a  awful  amateur  on  lines  of  that 
nature,  I  didn't  hardly  know  how  to  commence. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Sherrill!"  I  says.  "It's  you!  And  it's 
me !  Don't  you  remember  ?" 

"Remember?"  says  he,  a  big  smile  sweeping  over 
his  face  like  a  light.  "I'll  say  I  do!" 

Well  this  was  a  jolt,  his  using  language  like  that, 
but  of  course  he  was  in  the  pictures  now.  I  thought  I 
had  better  show  my  full  realization  of  this,  so  I  held 

out  both  hands. 

273 


274  Laughter  Limited 

"Well,  well,  Milt!"  I  says.  "How's  tricks?  So  you 
are  working  for  the  pictures!" 

"Even  so !"  says  he,  grabbing  my  fingers  and  draw- 
ing me  to  the  most  comfortable  chair.  "Sit  here," 
says  he.  "My  word,  but  you  look  charming!  Are 
you  very  rich  and  famous  now?" 

"Haven't  you  heard  ?"  I  says.  "I  am  not  McFadden 
any  more.  I'm  Bonnie  Delane." 

"Great  Scott,  is  that  so?"  says  Milt  with  a  whistle. 
"I  know  about  you  now,  of  course!  I  haven't  seen 
either  of  the  pictures,  though,  for  I've  been  kept  busy 
with  technical  details  ever  since  I  got  here.  But  I'm 
going  to  run  The  Mischief  Makers  some  evening  soon. 
I  understand  that  it  is  a  great  picture,  and  that  you 
are  a  wonderful  actress." 

"Far  be  it  from  me  to  contradict  such  a  statement," 
says  I.  "And  maybe  I'm  not  glad  to  see  you!  But 
I  can't  get  over  you  being  in  the  pictures !  You,  that 
had  such  a  line  of  lowdown  on  them." 

"I  expect  I  exaggerated  about  that  a  bit,"  says  Milt, 
settling  himself  beside  me  just  like  he  used  to  in  the 
observation  car.  "I,  like  most  outsiders,  hadn't  real- 
ized the  enormous  possibilities  in  the  industry.  It's  a 
wonderful  game,  but  it  is  still  in  its  infancy.  My  belief 
is  that  the  artistic  future  of  moving  pictures  has  no 
limit !  And  let  me  tell  you,  we  have  made  some  of  the 
finest  pictures  anyone  could  wish  to  see,  right  here  on 
this  lot  As  for  the  business  end — well,  it  leaves  me 
speechless,  that's  all !" 

"As  bad  as  that  ?"  says  I. 

"Bad?    Who  said  bad?"  demanded  Milton,  leaning 


Laughter  Limited  275 

over  and  tapping  me  solemnly  on  the  knee.  "My  dear 
girl,  the  moving  picture  business  is  colossal!  True, 
it  has  been  pretty  carelessly  managed  in  some  cases, 
as  for  instance,  right  here,  where  old-fashioned,  slip- 
shod methods  were  in  force.  That's  what  I  came  to 
straighten  out.  My  first  intention  was  to  remain  a  few 
weeks  at  most,  but  as  I  get  into  the  thing  and  begin 
to  see  what  could  be  done,  I  am  very  much  inclined 
to  stay  on  as  financial  head.  I  must  say  they  have 
made  me  a  very  flattering  offer.  I  haven't  signed  the 
contract  yet,  but  I'm  considering  it." 

"Sweet  daddy !"  I  says  feebly.  "Is  there  a  bug  of 
some  kind  in  the  Hollywood  air?" 

"All  we  need  in  this  business,"  Milt  went  on  en- 
thusiastically, "is  the  right  sort  of  people.  More  and 
more  are  coming  in  every  day.  We  must  throw  out 
the  old  traditions,  which  were  established  by  a  lot  of 
clowns  who  were  using  the  pictures  very  much  as  they 
would  have  run  a  shell  game." 

"I  see,"  said  I  dryly,  "that  you  know  just  what  is 
wrong  with  the  pictures.  Most  newcomers  do." 

Milton  Sherrill  laughed  like  a  schoolboy  and  sprang 
to  his  feet,  fetching  and  lighting  a  cigarette,  and  then 
coming  back,  pulling  his  chair  closer  to  me. 

"I  say !"  says  he.  "Don't  laugh  at  me  too  unmerci- 
fully, I'm  having  such  a  lot  of  fun !  For  the  first  time 
in  my  life  I  am  combining  business  and  pleasure.  And 
in  the  main  I  have  the  right  dope  about  this  game, 
Bonnie.  May  I  call  you  that?" 

"Sure  you  can !"  says  I,  laughing.  "I  like  it,  Milt. 
It's  plain  you  are  really  in  up  to  your  neck.  And 


276  Laughter  Limited 

maybe  you  do  know  something  about  what  pictures 
need.  You  will,  until  you've  been  in  them  a  while." 

"Well,  as  I  am  a  new  broom  I  intend  to  sweep 
clean,''  says  he.  "I  am  going  to  rid  this  lot  of  the 
personal-pull  idea,  and  favorites,  and  all  that,  and  I 
have  begun  by  hiring  Austin  Nickolls." 

"Oh,  I  am  glad,"  says  I.  "You  couldn't  help  but 
like  his  work." 

"So  they  tell  me,"  says  Milt.  "I  have  not  seen  any 
of  it  yet,  but  this  chap  has  become  rather  a  friend  of 
mine.  He  took  me  out  to  dinner  when  I  was  in  New 
York,  and  we  had  several  long  talks  together.  I  be- 
lieve Nickolls  is  a  wonderful  director  and  that  he  has 
a  big  future !  What  are  you  laughing  at  ?" 

"Nothing!"  says  I.  "I'm  happy,  that's  all.  And 
how  about  me,  Milt?  Do  I  get  a  job  or  are  you 
prejudiced  against  me,  on  account  of  me  being  a  old 
friend?" 

"Not  a  bit,  if  you  can  act !"  says  he  readily.  "But 
we  are  not  making  anything  just  now.  We  are  finish- 
ing the  stuff  which  had  already  been  started  when  I 
took  the  plant  over,  but  we  have  not  settled  on  our 
new  productions." 

Well,  this  was  a  blow  because  our  grocer  had  already 
been  told  about  as  many  of  them  forthcoming  produc- 
tions as  he  was  interested  in  listening  to,  and  I  had 
a  strong  prejudice  in  favor  of  eating.  I  had  come  to 
land  a  contract  and  I  had  no  intention  to  leave  without 
it,  sc  I  made  a  move — over  onto  the  arm  of  the  big 
overstuffed  where  Milton  was  sitting. 


Laughter  Limited  277 

"Oh,  Milt!"  I  says  pouting.  "Put  on  something 
for  me  right  away — please?" 

"Now,  Bonnie !"  says  Milt,  not  drawing  away  any, 
however. 

"I  know,  but,  hon,"  I  says,  "you  see  I  was  prac- 
tically contracted  for  before  you  come  out  here. 
Benny  Silvermount  had  been  after  me  and  said  to 
come  around  any  time.  Couldn't  you  do  it  on  that 
basis?" 

"B.  McFadden,"  says  Milt,  "desist!     No,  I  can't!" 

"Oh,  Milt !"  I  says,  and  laid  my  cheek  against  his 
nice  clean  hair,  and  then  all  of  a  sudden  I  realized  that 
this  was  no  sacrifice,  but  probably  the  least  difficult 
thing  I  had  ever  done  in  my  whole  entire  life.  At  the 
thought  I  sprung  away  from  him  as  quick  as  a  cat, 
and  at  the  instant  Milt  was  on  his  feet,  too,  pacing  up 
and  down  the  room. 

"Hey,  you!"  says  he,  like  a  thunderstorm.  "Sit 
down  in  that  chair!" 

I  sat  down  weakly,  a  rush  of  emotion  making  clear 
to  me  that  whatever  Milt  was  to  tell  me  to  do,  why  I 
would  do  it  from  that  time  on,  world  without  end. 
Amen !  I  was  glad  and  sorry  and  ashamed  and  proud, 
all  at  the  same  time.  And  I  had  started  something. 
I'll  say  I  had !  Only  not  what  I  at  first  thought. 

"You  dear  little  idiot !"  says  Milt,  stopping  in  front 
of  me  suddenly,  and  frowning.  "So  that  is  the  way 
you  think  they  do  the  trick,  eh  ?  No  wonder  pictures 
need  reorganization!  But  it  doesn't  go  here,  child, 
nor  with  any  of  the  big  men  in  the  business.  When 


278  Laughter  Limited 

will  you  pretty  picture-struck  girls  realize  that  what 
the  producer  wants  is  talent  ?  That  he  will  always  buy 
it  at  a  fair  price  when  he  finds  it  ?  You  don't  have  to 
do  that  sort  of  thing  to  me,  or  to  anyone.  You  can 
act.  That  is  enough.  And,  B.  McFadden,  as  a  vam- 
pire you  are  a  rank  amateur — thank  God !" 

He  come  over  and  kissed  my  hands  quickly,  and 
let  them  drop  and  started  pacing  again,  while  I  just 
sat  there  and  couldn't  say  a  word. 

"Women  are  all  crazy !"  he  burst  out  after  a  minute. 
"I  should  think  they  could  see  that  men  in  this  business 
are  absolutely  fed  up  with  silly  women  being  thrown  at 
their  heads !  I'm  no  Adonis,  but,  Bonnie,  you  are  the 
tenth,  in  as  many  days!  It's  amazing!" 

"But,  Milt,"  I  says,  pretty  nearly  ready  to  cry, 
"you  don't  understand!  I'm  good,  I  can  act,  but  I'm 
broke.  I  got  to  get  work,  and  you  said  you 
wouldn't " 

"Oh,  hush!"  says  he,  never  stopping  his  impatient 
walking.  "Now  I  will  have  to  make  work  for  you! 
So  you  see  your  vamping  was  a  success  after  all.  I'll 
draw  a  contract  of  some  kind  this  very  afternoon,  and 
give  you  an  advance.  You  will  begin  working  as  soon 
as  Nicky  gets  home.  You  need  taking  care  of  badly, 
B.  McFadden,  and  I'm  going  to  see  that  it  is  done." 

Well,  it's  the  truth  that  no  matter  how  pure  a  lady 
is,  she  don't  like  to  be  scorned.  And  no  modern  girl 
gets  any  joy  out  of  being  told  she  can't  take  care  of 
herself.  Also  it  is  a  true  fact  that  loving  and  hating 
act  on  a  person  very  much  the  same  way,  and  finding 
out  that  I  loved  Milton  Sherrill  naturally  at  once  made 


Laughter  Limited  279 

me  as  touchy  as  anything.  I  got  on  my  feet  as  soon 
as  he  stopped  talking. 

"I  seem  to  of  managed  to  take  pretty  good  care  of 
myself  this  far,"  I  says  haughtily,  "and  can  go  on 
doing  so.  I  don't  think  you  need  bother  with  any 
contract  or  anything.  Good-by !" 

"Hold  on,  B.,"  says  Milton,  putting  his  hand  on  my 
shoulder  and  making  me  sit  down  again.  "Now  that 
I  have  found  you,  I  am  not  going  to  let  you  get 
away  so  easily.  And  you  are  going  to  stop  behaving 
like  a  silly  child  and  sign  a  contract  at  a  reasonable 
figure — say,  six  hundred  a  week." 

Well,  as  this  was  only  one  hundred  berries  more 
than  I  had  ever  got  in  my  life  I  give  a  reluctant  con- 
sent, and  before  I  left  the  Silvermount  that  afternoon 
I  had  signed  on  the  dotted  line  for  three  special  Artlife 
productions,  where  I  would  not  be  a  star  by  any  means 
but  would  be  one  of  Nicky's  feature  players,  and  also 
with  a  two  weeks'  advance  in  my  purse,  which  I  took 
with  all  the  languid  indifference  of  a  starving  hyena 
pouncing  on  a  piece  of  raw  meat. 

But  all  this  time  Milt  had  not  done  one  thing  towards 
me,  except  what  was  real  impersonal.  And  as  I  drove 
out  home  in  the  big  white  bus,  which  now  was  really 
going  to  be  mine,  it  seemed  to  me  like  I  was  bound 
to  be  a  business  success ;  but  a  emotional  failure.  As 
soon  as  I  fell  in  love  with  somebody  they  would  get 
cold  feet,  or  cuckoo  over  some  other  girl,  and  all  my 
life  it  had  been  the  same.  There  was  Ella's  brother 
back  in  the  Stonewall  Grammar  School,  who  used  to 
walk  home  with  me  and  carry  my  books  until  I  got 


280  Laughter  Limited 

crazy  about  him  and  started  giving  him  the  cake  out 
of  my  lunch  box.  Then  he  took  up  someone  else. 
And  there  was  a  boy  come  with  his  family  one  sum- 
mer to  board  out  at  the  Bushwell  farm.  Mark  Rowe, 
his  name  was,  and  he  was  sixteen  and  wild  over  me, 
until  I  told  him  I  loved  his  eyes.  Then  he  switched 
over  to  Ella.  Then  Stricky.  And  now  Milton.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  was  dear  old  Bert  Green,  wild 
over  me  and  I  couldn't  see  him  at  all.  And  Axel,  who 
any  nitwit  could  tell  was  in  love  with  me,  while  I  only 
felt  sorry  for  the  poor  good-looking  boob.  All  the 
world  loves  another,  as  the  old  saying  goes.  And  it 
didn't  seem  right. 

Well,  as  I  looked  back  I  seen  clearly  that  I  had  not 
really  give  a  whoop  for  any  of  the  lot  until  Milt,  and 
I  couldn't  afford  to  lose  him.  I  wouldn't.  I  would 
face  the  cruel  truth  which  I  had  been  aware  of  the 
other  times  but  had  never  applied.  I  must  not  let  Milt 
see  how  I  felt.  It  was  a  darn- fool  truth,  but  a  truth 
just  the  same,  that  what  a  man  can't  have  he  wants, 
and  so  I  would  pull  a  can't-have,  if  it  killed  me.  If 
Milt  wanted  to  believe  that  I  was  just  job-hunting 
when  I  vamped  him,  why  so  much  the  better.  I  give 
a  sigh  when  I  thought  of  it.  Could  I  land  him?  I 
didn't  know.  All  I  knew  for  sure  was  that  I  had  really 
been  in  love  with  him  all  my  life. 

When  at  last  I  got  home,  more  in  a  state  of  fatigue 
than  of  triumph,  there  was  mommer  ahead  of  me,  and 
of  course  tickled  to  death  with  my  news. 

"Why,  Bonnie,  dearie,  I  don't  believe  I  could  of 
done  any  better  for  you  myself,"  she  says.  "When 


Laughter  Limited  281 

I  was  Lila  Lavelle's  mother  I  always  used  to  tell 
her  'A  time  will  come  when  I  can't  teach  you  any 
more.'  It  looks  like  you  were  about  there,  hon,  and 
I  suppose  before  long  you  will  be  through  with  me!" 

"Adele!"  I  says.  "Oh,  mommer,  never!  Why  how 
can  you  say  any  such  thing?  I  guess  I  will  trouble 
you  for  a  good  many  years  yet !" 

"I  wouldn't  call  it  trouble,"  says  she  with  a  pleased 
smile.  "But  I  will  say,  honey,  I  am  relieved  you  are 
signed  up  with  such  a  good  company.  Mr.  Sherrill  is 
a  rich  banker,  quite  aside  from  the  pictures,  ain't  he? 
And  unmarried.  H'm !  Well,  I  suppose  you  will  moan 
over  that  good-for-nothing  nitwit  of  a  Strickland,  just 
the  same.  I  hear  he  is  perfectly  devoted  to  Anita  now." 

Mommer  stood  with  her  hands  on  her  hips,  watching 
me,  but  attempting  to  register  casual  indifference.  And 
it  was  all  I  could  do  to  keep  from  laughing  right  out 
at  her  simple  plotting.  It  was  plain  at  such  times  why 
Adele's  life  ambition  to  be  a  picture  actress  had  never 
come  to  anything.  She  could  no  more  force  a  false 
expression  than  she  could  control  a  natural  one,  and 
believe  me  I  did  love  her  for  it. 

"Hon,"  says  I,  "don't  you  worry  over  my  emotions. 
I  got  a  job,  that's  enough  to  think  about,  ain't  it  ?  And 
as  for  Stricky,  I  haven't  even  got  any  desire  to  show 
him  where  he  gets  off.  He  is  already  off  as  far  as  I 
am  concerned.  But  this  I  will  say,  and  that  is,  some 
day  he  will  make  love  that  he  don't  mean  once  too 
often,  and  then  he  will  get  his." 

"My  land,  I  should  hope  so!"  says  mommer.  And 
then  she  changed  the  subject  quick.  "Well,"  says  she, 


282  Laughter  Limited 

"I  guess  it's  a  good  thing  I  was  out  to  the  ranch  this 
afternoon.  Your  father  hadn't  washed  the  dishes 
in  two  days.  That  poor  man  is  as  helpless  as  a 
infant!" 

"Mommer,"  I  says  severely,  "you  let  him  alone. 
He's  got  to  learn  to  work  and  you  must  leave  him 
learn  it!" 

"Well,  all  right,"  says  Adele.  "They  say  cast  your 
bread  upon  the  waters  and  you  will  find  it  after  many 
days,  but  I  always  say  a  dish  in  time  saves  a  nine  day's 
plumber's  bill;  and  that  sink  was  something  awful." 

Well,  I'll  tell  the  world  that  the  sink  was  not  the  only 
thing  about  our  ranch  that  was  in  a  fierce  condition. 
I  went  out  for  a  visit  a  coupla  weeks  after  pop  took 
possession,  and  pretty  near  dropped  dead  when  I  seen 
the  place.  At  the  first  I  just  wouldn't  go  because  I  felt 
well  here  is  pop,  he  never  done  a  thing  for  me  except 
sit  on  my  neck  and  take  my  money,  but  well  he  is  too 
old  for  me  to  change  him,  and  so  I  will  provide  for 
him.  But  that  will  buy  me  the  liberty  to  keep  away 
from  him.  However,  when  he  got  so  enthusiastic 
about  ranching  it,  and  moved  out  and  everything,  why 
a  kind  of  hope  did  revive  in  me  to  the  effect  that  per- 
haps he  could  actually  make  a  go  of  it,  for  five  acres 
is  not  a  great  deal  to  irrigate,  and  yet  a  mighty  com- 
fortable living  can  be  taken  off  of  them. 

So  when  one  day  mommer  says  it  is  a  shame  the  way 
you  treat  your  poor  father  you  had  ought  to  go  out 
and  see  him  oncet  in  a  while  anyways,  I  give  in  to  her, 
and  mommer  swiped  a  few  magazines  out  of  the  parlor, 
a  box  of  new  electric  bulbs,  a  coupla  phonograph 


Laughter  Limited  283 

records  and  other  delicacies,  and  hid  them  on  me  in  the 
car,  and  I  didn't  discover  them  until  after  we  had  got 
half  ways  out  to  the  Arroyo  del  Rey,  and  it  didn't  seem 
worth  while  turning  back. 

Well,  that  made  me  a  little  sore,  because  it  seemed 
to  me  she  had  taken  pop  pretty  near  everything  in 
the  house  by  then,  and  we  might  as  well  of  moved  out 
our  trunks  and  been  done.  And  when  we  come  to  the 
ranch  itself,  which  by  now  it  was  less  a  ranch  than 
the  center  of  a  new  lot  of  cute  art  dwellings,  I  was 
even  less  glad.  Of  course  I  had  not  expected  this  ranch 
to  be  one  always,  and  by  now  this  development  was 
quite  an  old  district — more  than  five  months  old,  in 
fact,  and  so  of  course  it  was  being  built  up  pretty  fast, 
but  still  and  all  that  shouldn't  of  affected  pop's  trees 
like  it  had.  As  we  come  in  sight  of  them  I  give  a  gasp, 
for  the  ground  was  cracked  and  dry,  with  weeds 
springing  up  in  it,  showing  plainly  that  no  cultivation 
had  been  even  attempted.  As  for  the  fruit,  heaven 
knows  a  olive  whether  in  or  out  of  a  cocktail,  means 
nothing  personally  to  me,  but  I  hate  to  see  even  a  cara- 
way seed  wasted,  and  these  olives  were.  They  was 
dried  up  like  Egyptian  ones,  or  something,  and  the 
whole  place  had  a  look  of  being  run  down.  Very  extra 
conspicuous  it  seemed,  among  all  that  grand  California 
real-estate  enterprise,  conducted  by  Californians  from 
Pennsylvania. 

Pop  was  not  expecting  us,  for  he  was  busy  sitting 
on  the  front  porch  with  his  boots  off,  and  his  stockings, 
with  his  feet  in  them,  however,  on  the  rail,  and  he 
was  squeezing  the  last  drop  of  reading  matter  out  of 


284  Laughter  Limited 

the  morning  paper,  which  showed  considerable  conser- 
vation because  this  was  the  middle  of  the  afternoon. 
There  certainly  was  some  things  pop  could  make  go  a 
long  ways. 

"Well,  Bonnie,  dearie !"  he  says,  delighted,  when  we 
stopped  outside.  "Welcome,  pretty  daughter,  to  my 
humble  home." 

"Humble  is  right,  pop,"  I  says,  coming  up  on  the 
porch  and  leaving  him  present  me  with  one  of  them 
generous  kisses  of  his.  "I  might  of  known  you  would 
humble  it!  What's  the  big  idea  of  leaving  things  go 
this  way?'* 

"Daughter  dear,"  says  pop  with  great  dignity,  "that 
is  a  fine  way  to  speak,  and  you  neglecting  me  all  this 
while !  It's  true  this  is  no  palace,  but  it's  my  own,  and 
my  warm  welcome  ought  to  compensate  for  its  short- 
comings !" 

I  sunk  down  in  a  chair  and  looked  around  me  with 
a  heavy  disgust.  From  a  pretty  but  neglected  ranch 
it  had  grown  to  be  a  pigsty !  Even  in  spite  of  Adele's 
efforts  to  the  contrary. 

"Pop,"  I  says,  "what  ails  you?  I  thought  you  was 
full  of  enthusiasm  for  this  job?" 

"Tush,  darling,  that's  where  I  was  all  wrong !"  says 
pop,  smiling  again.  "Ye  see  it  was  a  terrible  piece 
of  work,  getting  all  them  damn  trees  watered,  and 
plowed,  and  what  not !  My  back  itself  was  near  broke 
before  the  first  day  was  out.  And  then,  when  I  come 
to  figure  what  would  I  get  off  them  at  the  very  best, 
why  it  wouldn't  be  the  fortune  I  want  to  make  for  you, 
dearie.  So  I  set  myself  to  find  out  how  would  I  do  bet- 


Laughter  Limited  285 

ter  with  the  property,  and  I  been  figuring  on  that  ever 
since." 

"Is  that  so?"  says  I  indignantly.  "Well,  I  hope  you 
got  something  settled  by  now,  because  the  looks  of  this 
place  is  a  disgrace,  and  it  was  given  to  me  for  the  ad- 
vertising! Believe  me,  when  I  start  work  on  Nicky's 
new  picture  next  week  the  real-estate  interests  out  here 
will  commence  using  this  for  publicity  again,  and,  sweet 
daddy,  what  will  they  say  ?" 

"That's  so,  daughter  dear,"  says  pop  with  a  troubled 
look  in  his  big  blue  eyes.  "What  a  pity,  now!  Of 
course  the  place  is  mine,  since  you  gave  it  to  me,  but 
they  will  pass  remarks,  none  the  less,  no  doubt.  What 
will  we  do  about  it  ?  You  make  a  suggestion,  Bonnie, 
and  I  will  act  on  whatever  you  tell  me  to." 

Well,  it  had  been  quite  some  time  since  I  had  been 
obliged  to  think  up  a  new  line  for  pop,  and  so  it  didn't 
take  me  long  to  hit  on  a  idea. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,"  says  I — "you  get  in  with  the 
Arroyo  bel  Rey  people,  and  cut  this  place  up  into  half- 
acre  lots  and  sell  them  for  building,  all  but  your  own 
house.  And  with  the  money  you  get,  buy  your  way 
into  the  development  company." 

"Why,  that's  a  grand  idea!"  says  pop,  brightening 
at  once.  "All  I  would  have  to  do  is  mark  off  the  cor- 
ners of  the  lots  with  pegs  and  then  sit  in  the  office 
and  wait  for  the  customers.  There's  fine  money  to  be 
made  in  real  estate,  Bonnie,  and  I  think  we  have  hit 
on  the  right  idea  at  last!" 

Well,  I  thought  maybe,  but  said  nothing,  and  just 
then  mommer  come  out  from  the  kitchen  with  a  pot 


286  Laughter  Limited 

of  coffee  and  some  cake,  and  I  recognized  my  best 
china  cups  on  the  tray.  But  I  wouldn't  say  a  word 
about  that,  because  soon  I  myself  would  be  hard  at 
work,  so  why  not  spend  as  happy  an  afternoon  as  is 
possible  with  one's  family?  As  things  turned  out,  it 
was  a  long  time  before  I  seen  either  pop  or  the  ranch 
again.  I  was  glad  afterwards  to  remember  we  had 
parted  friends. 

"Au  revoir,  dear!"  I  says  when  I  left,  kissing  him 
of  my  own  accord. 

"Same  to  you!"  says  pop.  And  that  is  the  last  I 
seen  of  him  until  after  what  I  am  now  going  to  tell 
you  about  happened. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

^1 T  7HEN  Nicky  come  back  from  New  York  it  was 
**  the  breath  of  my  artistic  career  to  me.  Of 
course  I  had  seen  a  lot  of  Milt — that  is,  considering 
how  busy  he  was — but  while  Milt  was  my  heart, 
Nicky  was  my  art,  and  that  is  the  curse  of  we  modern 
women;  there  has  got  to  be  so  many  kinds  of  men  in 
our  life,  and  our  tradition  to  the  contrary,  makes  us 
fight  that  true  fact,  and  troubles  us  a  lot. 

But  while  I  felt  it  kind  of  queer  in  me  to  be  so  glad 
to  see  Nickolls  when  I  was  all  the  time  deeply  in  love 
with  Milt,  yet  I  was  made  that  way,  and  to  celebrate 
his  return  we  had  a  party  out  to  my  house  with  Milt 
and  Bert  and  Axel  and  Benny  Silvermount  and  Trixie 
and  Jennie,  her  kid,  and  we  ate  our  lunch  out  in  the 
garden,  and  had  a  talk  fest  about  how  good  we  all  was, 
and  what  a  great  future  was  before  us  and  so  forth. 

"Thank  God  for  this,  his  country!"  says  Nicky, 
leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  sniffing  at  the  blue  sky. 
"Give  me  the  Coast  and  you  can  have  New  York !" 

"I  thought  you  was  crabbing  about  our  immoral 
community  just  before  you  went  East,"  I  says,  kidding 
him,  see?  "And  that  you  never  wanted  to  work  out 
here  again,  but  stay  in  the  wholesome  stimulating  cold 
of  winter  slush,  and  so  forth?" 

"Huh!"  says  Nicky,  shaking  his  big  lion's  head. 
"Huh!  I've  been  East  since  then!" 

287 


288  Laughter  Limited 

Well,  this  picture,  the  first  one  Nicky  was  to  make, 
might  of  been  called  a  kind  of  a  experiment.  It  sure 
had  some  cast.  Trixie  Trueman,  Bonnie  Delane,  Tom 
Wells,  Herman  Herman,  the  famous  he-beauty,  and 
Atlas,  the  strong  guy.  Nobody  starred,  but  everybody 
featured,  and  Milt  had  worked  out  the  paper  for  it  such 
a  way  that  nobody  could  get  sore.  He  was  having 
all  the  names  printed  on  the  same  line,  and  alphabeti- 
cally. 

Well,  the  script  of  this  piece  was  by  a  bird  named 
Hawthorne  and  was  called  The  Scarlet  Letter.  You 
see  Nicky  had  got  the  idea  to  make  some  American 
classics,  and  not  to  change  them  any,  but  attempt 
merely  to  amplify  the  books  for  screen  purposes  and 
make  only  such  changes  as  was  absolutely  necessary 
to  have  them  go  in  the  small  towns.  And  Milt  backed 
him  up  strong,  in  spite  of  Big  Benny,  who  stood  around 
and  tore  his  hair,  or  would  of  only  he  was  prematurely 
bald  and  really  couldn't  spare  it.  But  he  tore  a  cloth 
hat  one  time,  when  they  says  they  was  going  to  keep 
the  original  title.  So  then  they  saw  not  alone  what  was 
left  of  the  hat,  but  reason  as  well,  and  changed  the 
name  of  the  picture  to  The  Price  of  Sin. 

But  when  it  come  right  down  to  the  story  itself, 
Nicky*  would  not  give  in  one  inch.  He  claimed  he 
would  make  this  great  American  novel  the  way  it  was 
written,  and  if  it  was  part  of  a  person's  education  to 
read  it,  why  not  make  it  the  same  as  it  read?  Of 
course  he  realized  that  on  account  of  the  censors  he 
would  be  obliged  to  make  the  heroine,  Hester,  mar- 
ried in  secret  to  the  father  of  her  child,  because  other- 


Laughter  Limited  289 

wise  it  would  not  be  possible  to  show  the  picture.  And 
a  part  was  written  in  for  me — a  Spanish  dancer  that 
tried  to  vamp  the  juvenile  away  from  Hester.  But 
outside  of  that  the  story  was  practically  the  way  the 
author  had  written  it. 

Well,  we  had  been  working  on  this  picture  for  over 
two  weeks  and  things  was  going  unusually  well.  Milton 
had  hired  Joe  for  Nicky's  camera,  on  Nicky's  recom- 
mendation, and  undoubtedly  Joe  was  a  wonderful  cam- 
era man.  Also  Milt  was  glad  to  hire  Bert  Green  for 
stills,  because  of  course  Bert  was  an  old  friend  from 
his  own  home  town  of  Stonewall.  Slim  Rolf  was  back 
with  us,  too,  Big  Benny  pointing  out  that  he  was  the 
one  best  bet  for  publicity  and  besides,  he,  Benny,  had 
known  Slim  for  years.  So  we  were  a  happy  family 
once  more,  and  I'll  say  the  picture  looked  like  it  was 
certainly  going  to  be  a  knockout.  And  then  one  day 
we  run  against  a  awful  snag. 

You  see  this  Hester  in  the  story,  she  has  a  baby,  and 
really  if  you  was  to  cut  it  out  there  would  be  no  story 
to  it.  But  it  seems  the  Big  Egg  got  to  thinking  it  over 
and  talked  with  Milton  about  it,  and  told  Milton  what 
a  serious  thing  it  was  to  run  'up  against  the  National 
Board  of  Censorship  and  that  many  a  expensive  fillum 
had  been  made  and  then  they  had  to  throw  it  out  be- 
cause of  just  some  little  thing  like  that.  Well,  it  seems 
that  Milton  pointed  out  to  Benny  that  Hester  was  mar- 
ried, and  that  the  both  of  them  had  been  born  once,  and 
Benny  had  to  admit  it,  but  thought  they  had  better 
consult  Nicky  before  they  went  any  further.  So  they 
sent  for  Nicky  and  after  two  hours  he  come  out  boiling, 


290  Laughter  Limited 

but  licked,  parked  himself  in  my  light-blue  silk  dress- 
ing room  and  exploded,  for  he  knew  that  was  a  safe 
place  to  do  it. 

"They  make  me  wild!"  he  bellowed.  "They  are 
mad  as  hatters!  Change  The  Scarlet  Letter?  Good 
Lord,  haven't  they  changed  it  enough  already  ?  Benny 
suggested  that  I  get  Hester  into  some  business  compli- 
cation as  a  substitution  for  her  child !  Heaven  defend 
us!" 

"But,  Nicky/'  I  says  to  him,  "it  isn't  Benny  that's  to 
blame;  it's  them  censors!  Gee!  Sometimes  when  I  think 
of  anybody  telling  me  what  I  can  or  can't  see,  it  makes 
me  so  wild,  Nicky,  I  could  blow  up !" 

"Oh,  they  are  probably  good  enough  as  people,"  says 
he.  "But  nobody  is  good  enough  to  tell  an  artist  in  any 
line  what  work  he  shall  do  or  how  it  shall  be  done. 
Let  them  take  or  leave  the  finished  product,  by  all 
means,  Bonnie.  But  allow  the  public  itself  to  judge 
of  moral  values,  and  of  decency!  I  for  one  have  great 
faith  in  the  intelligence  of  my  fellow  countrymen  and 
women.  If  a  show  is  dirty  they  can  be  pretty  safely 
trusted  not  to  accept  it.  They  will  simply  call  in  the 
police,  and  that  will  put  an  end  to  it." 

"Well,  I  personally  myself  don't  see  how  anybody 
can  be  conceited  enough  to  accept  the  job  of  censoring," 
I  says  thoughtfully.  "Yet  you  got  to  admit,  Nicky, 
that  in  the  old  days  there  was  some  pretty  raw  pictures 
shown." 

"But  they  didn't  last !"  says  he,  quick.  "They  were 
withdrawn  at  the  first  public  protest.  And  anyhow, 
that  was  in  the  old  days  when  pictures  were  a  wildcat 


Laughter  Limited  291 

enterprise.  And  now Why,  the  darn  thing  doesn't 

work  anyhow,  no  matter  how  you  look  at  it.  For 
example,  remember  that  German  picture?  A  crazy 
man's  mind,  exposed  most  realistically.  Yet  it  gets  by 
the  censors  while  my  own  company,  an  American  con- 
cern, is  afraid  to  let  me  faithfully  film  a  great  Ameri- 
can classic  by  one  of  the  greatest  writers  our  country 
has  produced — all  because  the  most  common  event 
in  life,  with  the  exception  of  death,  occurs  in  it. 
Bah!" 

"But,  Nicky,  Nicky!"  I  says.  "Some  control  has 
got  to  be  put  on  everything.  Otherwise  we  would  get  a 
lot  of  awful  books  and  pictures  and  so  forth.  I  wish 
I  had  the  faith  in  the  good  sense  and  inborn  decency 
of  people  that  you  got.  But  I  can't  have  it,  Nicky. 
I  lived  in  a  small  country  village  too  long." 

"What?"  says  he  indignantly.  "Why,  with  the 
amount  of  education  there  is  in  this  country  to-day 
the  people  are  perfectly  competent  to  act  as  their  own 


censors." 


"And  there  are  also  a  lot  of  nitwits  that  will  pay 
out  good  money  to  get  hold  of  a  little  dirt,"  I  reminded 
him. 

"But  what  I  am  making  in  The  Scarlet  Letter  isn't 
dirt,  you  ignorant  child !"  Nicky  shouted  at  me.  "It's 
life — it's  life,  I  tell  you;  and  life  isn't  dirty.  But  a  lot 
of  boobs  who  are  permitted  to  judge  haven't  found 
out  the  distinction  as  yet!" 

"The  picture-going  public,  Nicky,"  I  says,  "is  much 
like  a  classroom  in  an  old-fashioned  public  school. 
The  big  majority  are  kept  back  by  the  few.  You  can't 


292  Laughter  Limited 

safely  promote  the  class  until  the  nitwits  have  caught 
up  a  little  with  the  normal  kids." 

"You  said  a  mouthful,"  retorted  Nickolls  grimly, 
"and  that  without  knowing  it.  It  is  just  as  wrong  to 
hold  back  a  normal  audience  from  an  adult  representa- 
tion of  life  through  the  medium  of  art,  as  it  was  to 
keep  back  your  roomful  of  normal  children  on  account 
of  the  presence  among  them  of  some  who  were  sub- 
normal. We  can't  go  on  forever  making  pictures  pri- 
marily for  old  maids  and  for  children !  We  can  make 
separate  pictures  for  them,  yes,  but  we  must  grow  up. 
It's  time." 

"Sweet  daddy!"  says  I.  "If  it  wasn't  for  the  old 
maids  and  the  sweet  young  things  there  wouldn't  be  no 
business  for  the  movies !  And  what  is  more,  J.  Austin 
Nickolls,  I  got  a  very  clear  idea  that  art  can  be  made 
out  of  some  subject  which  nobody  can  take  any  ex- 
ceptions to,  just  as  easy  as  it  can  out  of  the  other  kind 
of  thing,  and  that  it  can  be  just  as  first-class  art,  too, 
if  you  are  artist  enough  to  make  it  right.  So  why  not 
simplify  matters  by  choosing  that  kind  of  a  story,  and 
then  everybody  will  be  satisfied  ?" 

Nicky  give  me  a  long  stare  at  that,  and  got  up. 

"No  wonder  you  are  a  success  in  the  pictures !"  he 
says. 

And  without  another  word  he  walked  away,  leaving 
me  to  wonder  was  that  remark  a  compliment  or  a  in- 
sult? 

However,  in  the  end  the  office  decided  to  take  a 
chance  on  the  censors  and  left  Hester  Prynne's  baby 
in  the  story,  but  decided  they  would  cut  out  the  con- 


Laughter  Limited  293 

ventional  shot  showing  Hester  holding  up  a  darling 
little  pair  of  knitted  boots.  So  Nicky  forgave  Benny 
and  Milt,  and  recommenced  work  on  the  picture  in- 
stead of  walking  out  on  them  and  jumping  in  the  ocean 
to  drown  himself,  like  he  had  announced  he  would. 

And  then,  just  as  things  had  got  settled  down  again 
and  was  running  smoothly,  there  come  a  interruption 
of  another  kind  which  lamed  the  production  for  quite 
some  time. 

They  say  that  coming  events  cast  their  shadows  be- 
fore them,  but  I  always  say  you  never  know  what  the 
morrow  will  bring  forth — to  steal  mommer's  stuff. 
And  in  this  case  it  wasn't  even  a  case  of  the  morrow, 
but  a  mere  matter  of  a  few  hours. 

Well,  this  day  things  had  started  out  good,  with 
perfect  weather,  a  perfect  breakfast,  the  car  running 
fine,  and  practically  no  bills  in  the  morning's  mail. 
My  make-up  went  on  right  the  very  first  time,  and  I 
was  singing  to  myself  when  I  went  down  on  the  set. 
Everybody  I  met  seemed  like  they  was  in  a  good 
humor,  too,  and  the  work  went  well  all  morning.  Talk 
about  casting  a  shadow  before,  why  this  event  I  am 
going  to  tell  you  about  didn't  cast  any  more  shadow 
than  a  split  hair!  I  don't  remember  when  I  felt  so 
light-hearted.  Even  mommer's  telephoning  at  lunch 
time  to  say  she  was  coming  down  later  and  watch  me 
work  didn't  upset  me  like  it  usually  done. 

Well  anyways,  things  were  fine,  even  if  Nicky  him- 
self was  not  on  the  set  this  day,  but  leaving  the  stuff 
to  Louie. 

"Say,  Louie,"  I  says  when  we  went  back  to  the  stage 


294  Laughter  Limited 

after  our  noon  diet — "Say,  Louie,  where  is  Nicky 
gone,  do  you  know  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  unless  he's  staying  home,  sore,"  says 
Louie  with  a  grin.  "Maybe  he  don't  feel  so  good  after 
that  jam  he  was  in  last  night." 

"What  jam  is  that?"  I  says. 

"Didn't  you  hear  about  it  ?"  says  Louie.  "Why,  it's 
all  over  town.  It  was  with  your  old  friend  Greg  Strick- 
land." 

"What  was  it,  Louie?"  I  says,  trying  not  to  seem  as 
nervous  as  I  felt. 

"Well,  as  far  as  I  can  make  out,  see,"  says  Louie, 
"this  Strickland  had  it  in  for  Nicky,  see,  and  last  night 
they  were  both  to  a  party  out  at  Atlas  Smith's  place. 
Well,  Strickland  had  some  wren  along  and  they  were 
both  pretty  wet,  I  guess.  Anyways,  Nicky  met  up 
with  them  in  the  garden  on  that  little  Jap-bridge  effect 
Atlas  has  over  his  swimming  pool.  And  when  Nick 
seen  who  it  was  coming  towards  him  over  this  bridge, 
see,  why  he  steps  to  one  side  to  avoid  speaking,  and 
Strickland  seen  his  chance  and  without  any  warning, 
why  he  soaks  Nicky  one  in  the  jaw  and  Nicky  fell  over 
and  landed  in  the  pool." 

"Well,  there  was  a  big  crowd  around,  see?"  Louie 
went  on.  "And  they  got  Nicky  right  out.  His  head 
was  hurt  pretty  bad  by  striking  on  the  edge  of  the  pool, 
but  he  was  all  for  licking  Strickland  good  and  plenty, 
just  the  same." 

"And  did  he?"  says  I. 

"Naw!"  says  Louie.     "Strickland  didn't  stay  long 


Laughter  Limited  295 

enough  for  him  to.  By  the  time  Nick  was  out  of  the 
pool  that  bad  actor  had  left  the  party  without  even  say- 
ing good  night." 

"Whew,"  I  says.  "I  will  have  to  call  Nicky  up  when 
we  quit  this  afternoon." 

"It's  a  poor  way  to  get  a  bad  head,"  says  Louie; 
"and  I'll  bet  his  is  aching !" 

Well,  after  that  we  went  back  to  the  big  scene  we 
was  shooting,  which  was  of  Plymouth  Rock  or  some 
place,  and  my  mind  was  at  once  on  my  job  again,  the 
way  it  always  is  when  I  am  acting.  In  the  sequence 
we  was  making  I  was  this  Spanish  dancer  that  was 
vamping  Herman,  our  juvenile,  who  was  playing  the 
part  of  this  young  clergyman.  So  naturally  I  kind  of 
forgot  Nicky  and  everything  else  for  a  while.  And 
then  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  Louie  decided  he 
would  shoot  the  same  stuff  in  another  background  as 
well,  so  that  there  would  be  two  choices  in  tomorrow's 
dailies.  Consequently  there  was  a  wait  while  an  in- 
terior was  dressed  for  him,  and  during  it  I  was  chatting 
with  Trixie  when  Eddie  the  w.  k.  call  boy  came  and 
says  that  I  was  wanted  on  the  telephone. 

"Say,  how  do  you  get  that  way?"  I  says.  "I'm  on 
the  set,  ain't  I  ?" 

"I  know,"  says  he,  kind  of  upset  for  him,  "but  it's 
real  urgent,  I  think,  Miss  Delane,  or  I  wouldn't  of  come 
for  you." 

Well,  I  took  a  look  around,  and  as  things  didn't 
seem  as  if  they  would  be  ready  for  some  little  time  yet, 
why,  I  says  to  Trixie,  wait,  dear,  I  will  be  right  back 


296  Laughter  Limited 

and  tell  you  the  rest  about  how  that  new  coat  of  mine 
is  going  to  be  made,  and  then  I  went  to  my  dressing 
room  and  picked  up  the  receiver  of  the  telephone. 

"Hello !"  I  says.  "This  is  me  speaking.  Who  is  it, 
please  ?" 

At  first  all  I  could  hear  was  a  sort  of  confused  sound, 
like  someone  crying.  And  then  I  made  out  my  name. 

"Yes,  it's  me!"  I  says.    "Who  wants  me?" 

"Come  quickly!"  says  the  voice.  A  woman's,  I 
could  get  that  now. 

"Mommer,  is  it  you?"  I  says  frightened. 

"It  is  Anita,"  says  the  voice.  "Bonnie,  say  you  will 
come.  You  must,  you  must!" 

Well,  when  I  heard  who  it  was  I  went  kind  of  cold 
all  over  me.  The  iron  nerve  of  her,  to  call  me  up  at 
all,  much  less  ask  me  to  do  anything  for  her ! 

"I  can't  go  anywheres,"  I  says.  "I  am  on  a  set. 
And  if  I  wasn't  I  don't  see  how  you  could  expect  me  to 
come,  Anita,  after  everything!" 

"Bonnie,  Bonnie!"  she  wailed.  "You  must  come! 
Something  terrible  has  happened,  and  you  are  the  only 
friend  I  got  in  the  world." 

"I  can't,"  I  says.  "I  tell  you  I  am  working.  I  got 
to  go  right  back." 

"You  must  come !"  says  Anita,  and  there  was  a  ter- 
rible sound  to  her  voice  as  she  said  it.  "Nothing  is 
so  important  as  your  coming.  I've  got  to  have  help." 

"But  what's  wrong?"  I  says.  "Tell  me,  and  I'll  try 
and  get  over  later." 

"I  can't  tell  you  on  the  phone,"  says  she.  "Oh, 
come,  please,  please!" 


Laughter  Limited  297 

"Where  are  you?"  I  says. 

"I'm  at  Stricky's  bungalow.  Oh,  I'm  going  mad,  I 
tell  you.  If  you  wait  any  longer  it  will  be  too  late. 
Can't  you  understand — too  late!  Come,  Bonnie,  you 
must,  you  must!" 

She  started  laughing  and  crying  then  and  I  suppose 
dropped  the  receiver.  I  could  still  hear  her  faintly, 
but  she  had  evidently  left  the  phone.  And  then  some- 
body screamed.  Such  a  scream  as  I  hope  I  will  never 
hear  again — thin  and  high  and  despairing  and  full  of 
fear.  Then  no  sound  at  all. 

I  stood  at  that  phone  with  a  sensation  like  I  simply 
must  see  through  it  to  what  was  happening  at  the  other 
end,  my  heart  beating  like  I'd  been  running  a  race. 
There  could  be  no  fake  about  what  I  had  just  heard, 
that  was  sure.  A  sort  of  wild  fear  took  hold  of  me. 

What  was  wrong?  What  crazy  unbelievable  thing 
had  happened?  The  sinister  something  that  was  for- 
ever fighting  the  beauty  around  me  crept  out  of  its  hid- 
ing place  again  and  breathed  its  foul  breath  on  me. 
My  nerves  shrank  away  from  the  horror  of  it,  and  yet 
there  had  been  a  tone  in  Anita's  voice  which  forced 
me  in  the  other  direction.  It  was  just  woman  calling  to 
woman.  More  than  that,  it  was  a  human  in  need  call- 
ing out  in  despair  to  the  only  one  it  could  think  of — 
myself !  I  had  to  answer  it.  I  had  to  go ! 

It's  the  truth  that  from  that  moment  on  I  forgot  the 
studio  where  I  was,  forgot  the  people  waiting  on  the 
set,  the  work  I  was  due  to  do  there,  and  absolutely 
everything  except  that  terrible  haunting  cry  of  Anita's. 
It  wiped  out  even  the  recollection  of  how  she  had 


298  Laughter  Limited 

double-crossed  me,  and  all  I  thought  of  was  that  I  posi- 
tively must  get  to  her  as  quick  as  ever  I  could. 

The  idea  of  waiting  to  take  off  my  Spanish  costume 
or  my  make-up  never  even  come  into  my  head  as  I 
rushed  for  the  open  door,  down  the  long  narrow  flight 
of  stairs,  across  a  couple  of  empty  stages,  headed  for 
the  main  door,  and  nearly  knocking  Slim  Rolf  over 
in  the  corridor  as  I  ran  out.  He  yelled  some  indignant 
remark  at  me,  I  don't  know  what,  for  I  paid  no  atten- 
tion, but  ran  along  the  street  to  where  my  car  was 
parked  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  crowded  line.  At 
last  I  reached  it,  and  somehow  in  another  minute  I 
was  headed  away  from  the  studio,  my  lace  headdress 
flying  and  flapping  about  me  madly  in  the  wind. 

Stricky's  bungalow  was  on  a  old  street  way  over  on 
the  edge  of  the  West  Adams  district,  a  well  built-up 
neighborhood  and  exclusive,  but  the  homes  not  very 
close  together.  The  house  itself  was  a  simple  little  one 
of  the  old  original  California-bungalow  type,  and  had 
been  put  up  when  they  made  them  of  brown  stained 
shingles,  and  it  had  a  heavy  old  buginvillaea  vine  hang- 
ing dark  and  thick  over  the  porch.  When  I  parked 
my  car  in  front  of  it  there  was  not  a  soul  in  sight,  and 
I  thought  my !  how  still  and  quiet  it  is !  The  only  thing 
moving  anywheres  was  the  sprayer  playing  quietly  on 
the  lawn  with  a  soft,  wet,  drippity-drop  as  it  swung 
around. 

I  went  up  the  path  with  fast-beating  heart,  wonder- 
ing at  the  unearthly  quiet  that  hung  about  the  place, 
and  the  late  afternoon  sun  sent  my  fantastic  shadow 
scuttling  ahead  of  me  as  I  run  up  the  steps.  The  front 


Laughter  Limited  299 

door  was  standing  wide  open,  and  after  kind  of  halt- 
ing on  the  door-sill  I  went  in  and  stopped  in  the  hall. 

"Anita!  Anita!"  I  called,  my  own  voice  sounding 
like  a  stranger  to  me. 

But  there  was  no  answer.  Not  even  a  sound.  So 
taking  all  my  courage  in  my  hands  I  parted  the  curtains 
and  went  into  the  sitting  room.  At  first  I  thought  there 
was  nobody  in  it,  but  after  a  moment  my  eyes  grew  ac- 
customed to  the  dimness  and  I  seen  that  I  was  wrong. 
Somebody  was  there.  It  was  Stricky,  spread  face 
downwards  on  the  floor,  and  beside  him  lay  Nickolls' 
revolver. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

TT7HO  had  killed  Gregory  Strickland?  That  was 
*  *  the  first  question  flashed  into  my  mind  as 
I  stood  there  in  the  doorway  of  his  parlor,  holding  on 
to  the  portieres  and  staring  down  at  his  body. 

The  room  itself  looked  like  a  storm  or  something 
had  wrecked  it  and  undoubtedly  a  emotional  one  had. 
The  center  table  was  overturned  and  the  lamp  smashed 
on  the  floor,  also  a  vase  with  spilled  flowers  and  a 
coupla  torn  magazines.  Two  chairs  was  upset,  the  rug 
was  rumpled,  and  partially  on  it  but  with  his  still  face 
against  the  parquet,  lay  Strick,  his  arms  sprawled  out 
and  his  handsome  Jap  kimono  all  twisted  about  him  in 
a  way  that  would  of  been  comical  if  it  hadn't  been  so 
ghastly.  My  throat  was  terrible  dry  and  with  a  sort 
of  crick  in  it,  and  for  the  first  moment  or  two  I  couldn't 
make  no  noise  at  all.  Then  finally  my  voice  come  back 
to  me  and  I  managed  to  let  out  a  cry. 

"Anita!"  I  screamed.  "Oh,  Anita,  where  are  you? 
What  has  happened  ?" 

But  nobody  answered.  Well,  I  thought,  maybe  she 
has  fainted  or  something  and  no  wonder,  for  I  then 
remembered  things  had  sounded  that  way  over  the 
telephone,  and  so  I  started  out  to  see  could  I  find 
her  any  place.  It  took  a  lot  of  nerve  to  let  go  of  the 
curtains  and  walk  around  Greg  but  somehow  I  done 
it,  and  reached  the  dining  room  beyond.  Nobody  was 
there,  either,  only  a  table  where  two  had  eaten  evidently 

300 


Laughter  Limited  301 

a  late  combination  breakfast  and  lunch,  and  the  coffee 
was  in  the  cups  yet  and  a  used  napkin  on  the  floor 
where  somebody  getting  up  had  dropped  it.  The  pan- 
try was  empty,  too,  and  there  was  no  one  in  the  kitchen, 
although  I  knew  that  generally  Strick  kept  a  Jap  ser- 
vant. Somehow  it  made  me  feel  awful  queer  to  see 
these  simple  domestic  items  all  as  per  usual  while  that 
thing  lay  in  the  room  beyond.  I  found  I  was  walking 
quiet,  though  swift,  as  I  went  into  the  hall  again  and 
paused  outside  the  door  to  Stricky's  bedroom,  which 
was  the  only  other  room  in  the  house. 

It  was  a  hard  thing  to  do,  opening  that  door,  for  I 
dreaded  to  think  what  state  Anita  would  be  in,  but  I 
opened  it  just  the  same,  calling  to  her  again.  But 
this  room,  too,  was  perfectly  empty,  with  the  bed 
rumpled  like  Strick  had  got  up  late  and  a  few  of  his 
clothes  was  laying  about.  That  was  all.  The  top 
bureau  draw  was  open  and  handkerchiefs  and  collars 
was  scattered  about.  The  wind,  that  soft  California 
wind  with  the  oil  and  the  cedar  and  the  burning  eu- 
calyptus leaves  in  it,  stirred  the  bright  yellow  curtains 
at  the  open  window  and  they  was  the  only  things  mov- 
ing in  the  whole  entire  house. 

For  what  seemed  to  be  about  a  year  I  stood  there 
thinking  where  was  Anita?  Where  had  she  gone? 
Was  it  she  who  had  killed  Greg,  or  had  he  done  it  his 
own  self?  And  why?  If  he  had  committed  suicide, 
why  should  she  of  run  away  before  I  got  there?  I 
couldn't  make  it  out.  Of  course  she  might  of  gone  for 
the  police,  but  that  didn't  seem  hardly  likely,  what  with 
a  telephone  right  in  the  house.  Whatever  had  been 


302  Laughter  Limited 

pulled  off,  her  nerve  had  lasted  long  enough  to  let  her 
get  me  on  the  wire,  which  made  it  seem  as  if  some  third 
party  had  been  present  when  she  phoned.  That  must 
of  been  it !  She  had  certainly  said  it  would  be  too  late 
if  I  didn't  come  at  once.  Yes,  someone  else  had  most 
likely  been  in  the  bungalow  at  that  time,  and  the  murder 
had  been  going  on  while  she  was  phoning.  But  who 
could  that  third  party  of  been,  and  why  should  I  espe- 
cially be  drawn  into  it? 

Suddenly  it  come  over  me  with  full  force  whose 
shooting  iron  that  was  on  the  parlor  floor.  It  was 
Nicky's !  I  crept  back  to  the  parlor  to  make  absolutely 
sure  there  was  no  mistake.  Yes,  it  was  the  gun  I  had 
used  in  Alias  Cinderella,  and  which  Greg  had  stolen 
from  me  later.  I  remembered  how  Nicky  had  asked 
for  it  and  said  it  was  his  father's  and  so  forth.  Not  a 
doubt  was  in  my  mind  but  that  he  had  made  Greg  re- 
turn it.  And  then  there  was  that  trouble  the  two  of 
them  had  out  at  Atlas  Smith's  party.  There  must  of 
been  more  to  the  incident  than  I  knew  of.  Oh,  it  was 
awful,  too  awful ! 

But  what  was  I  to  do?  The  first  person  I  thought 
of  calling  was  Adele.  I  must  have  mommer  at  once, 
for  I  needed  her  something  awful.  By  now  she  was 
probably  at  the  studio,  and  I  could  get  her  there.  The 
telephone  stood  on  a  little  table  just  beyond  where 
Stricky  lay,  and  I  was  forced  to  pass  him  again  to  get 
it.  Somehow  I  couldn't  endure  to  touch  him,  even  to 
change  his  dreadful  position  or  cover  him  up.  How 
I  felt  about  him  lying  there  I  don't  hardly  know,  ex- 
cept that  he  was  unreal  yet  terrible. 


Laughter  Limited  303 

The  receiver  was  hanging  off  the  telephone  just  like 
Anita  had  dropped  it,  and  before  I  could  get  Central 
I  had  to  put  it  back  on  the  hook  for  a  while  and  wait, 
and  believe  me  I  sat  pretty  near  as  quiet  as  my  com- 
panion. Then  at  last  I  got  the  operator  and  a  moment 
or  two  later  the  studio  answered. 

"Silvermount  Studios,"  says  girl's  voice  with  a 
deadly  commonplace  tone  that  jarred  on  my  nerves. 

"Is  that  you,  Mabel  ?"  I  says  shakily.  "This  is  Miss 
Delane  speaking.  Is  mommer  on  the  lot?" 

"Sure,  Miss  Delane,"  says  Mabel  cheerfully.  "She 
come  in  a  minute  ago." 

"Say  get  this  right,  Mabel,"  I  says.  "I  am  at  Mr. 
Strickland's  bungalow.  Get  word  at  once  to  mommer 
to  come  right  out  here  as  fast  as  she  can.  Tell  her 
something  serious  is  wrong.  Get  her  immediately,  even 
if  you  have  to  leave  the  board  yourself.  It's  life 
and  death.  Do  you  understand  ?" 

"My  Gawd,  yes !"  says  she. 

"Hurry,  Mabel,"  I  says. 

Then  I  hung  up  and  sat  there  trembling,  not  know- 
ing just  what  to  do  next,  and  as  I  sat  that  way  I  heard 
somebody  come  up  the  path  and  cross  the  porch.  At 
the  sound  I  come  to  life  and  to  my  feet.  Anita!  It 
must  be  her,  come  back.  I  flew  to  the  window  and 
peeked  out  between  the  curtains  and  saw  that  it  was 
not  Anita  after  all,  but  a  policeman,  and  at  the  same 
instant  he  rung  the  doorbell. 

I  drew  back  into  the  room  trying  to  think  quick,  and 
as  I  done  so  I  noticed  that  gun  again  and  realized  that 
probably  nobody  but  mommer  and  me  knew  whose  it 


304  Laughter  Limited 

was.  With  one  motion  I  had  it  in  my  hand,  and  was 
looking  around  wildly  to  see  where  I  could  hide  it. 
Then  the  doorbell  rung  again,  and  that  decided  me.  I 
hid  the  gun  down  the  front  of  my  waist,  and  with  it 
pressing  against  my  body,  cold  and  painful,  I  went  to 
open  the  door. 

Outside  on  the  porch  stood  a  handsome  young  cop 
and  his  smiling  face  took  on  a  look  of  surprise  when 
he  seen  me  and  that  reminded  me  I  was  in  my  Spanish 
costume  all  this  while. 

"Say !"  says  this  cop  in  a  pleasant  voice.  "You  got 
your  car  parked  the  wrong  way.  You  can't  leave  it  like 
that,  miss!" 

Whatter  you  know !  I  pretty  near  died  of  the  shock 
of  this  remark.  Here  I  was  all  keyed  up  for  Gawd 
knew  what,  and  he  pulled  a  line  like  that  on  me.  I 
leaned  up  against  the  door  frame  and  commenced  to 
laugh  and  cry,  and  for  a  moment  he  just  stood  and 
stared  at  me  like  I  had  gone  cuckoo  and  guess  I  had, 
a  little  bit.  Then  I  controlled  myself.  After  all,  the 
sight  of  him  was  a  relief. 

"Oh,  officer!"  I  says,  gasping  and  reaching  out  to 
him.  "I  am  glad  it's  you.  Someone  is  killed, 
inside !" 

"What?"  says  he.    "Are  you  kidding  or  what?" 

"No,  no !"  I  cried.  "It's  Gregory  Strickland !  Come 
in,  please!  Oh,  thank  God,  you  come!" 

Well,  he  didn't  stop  to  argue  then,  but  brushed  past 
me  and  into  the  room  where  I  pointed.  On  the  door- 
sill  he  stopped  and  give  a  whistle. 

"Merciful  Mother!"  says  he.     Then  he  done  what 


Laughter  Limited  305 

I  had  not  dared  to  do.  He  went  over  to  Strick  and 
turned  his  head  and  felt  his  hands.  Then  he  straight- 
ened up  and  faced  me,  looking  quite  another  person 
from  the  boy  I  had  just  let  in. 

"He's  warm  yet!"  he  says.  "It  must  of  just  hap- 
pened. What  did  you  do  it  for?" 

The  room  went  spinning  around  me  at  them  words. 
What  had  I  killed  Greg  for — I!  Up  to  that  moment 
it  hadn't  even  come  into  my  head  that  anybody  would 
think  I  was  the  murderer.  And  now  I  seen  the  fix 
I  was  in.  I  suppose  I  pretty  near  fainted,  but  not 
quite.  There  come  a  moment  of  terrible  confusion  to 
jrny  mind,  and  then  somehow  I  was  sitting  on  the  sofa 
and  the  cop  was  holding  a  glass  of  water  to  my  lips. 

"There  now !"  says  he.  "You'll  be  all  right.  Just 
set  quiet  and  don't  you  attempt  to  move  while  I  call 
up  headquarters !" 

"I  didn't  do  it !"  I  says  feebly.  "I  tell  you  I  didn't 
doit!" 

"Who  did,  then?"  says  he. 

"I  don't  know,"  I  gasped. 

"Well,"  says  the  officer  grimly,  "you'll  get  plenty  of 
chance  to  explain  to  a  jury  how  you  happened  to  be 
here!" 

He  grabbed  up  the  telephone  ard  commenced  talking, 
while  I  sat  limp  where  he  had  put  me,  too  dazed  by 
all  I  had  been  through  to  attempt  to  move,  even  if  there 
had  been  no  gun  trained  at  me,  which  there  by  now 
was,  for  the  cop  had  pulled  his  out. 

"Shooting !"  he  says  into  the  receiver  giving  the  ad- 
dress. "Looks  like  a  murder.  Spanish  woman.  Yeh, 


306  Laughter  Limited 

I'm  holding  her  all  right.  Better  send  an  ambulance 
as  well.  All  right,  captain !"  Then  he  turned  back  to 
me,  his  face  as  hard  as  nails. 

"Mighty  rotten  business,"  he  says.  "Movie  folks, 
ain't  you?  I  thought  as  much!  Rotten  lot,  I  always 
say  they  are.  Well,  I  guess  this  will  be  about  the  end 
of  the  wild  times  for  a  couple  of  youse,  now!" 

I  couldn't  answer,  for  my  voice  was  gone  again. 
And  anyways,  my  mind  was  on  other  matters  be- 
sides setting  a  mere  typical  bonehead  right  against  his 
will,  because  even  in  these  extreme  circumstances  my 
brains  hadn't  gone  back  on  me  to  such  a  extent  but  that 
I  could  see  he  was  just  that,  although  I  couldn't 
hardly  blame  him  for  thinking  like  he  did  about  my 
guilt. 

Neither  could  I  help  but  see  that  I  was  in  a  very  bad 
fix.  Being  found  alone  with  a  dead  body,  especially 
one  belonging  to  a  person  with  who  you  are  known  to 
have  a  quarrel,  is  no  joke  at  any  time.  Of  course  I  had 
been  at  the  studio  up  to  half  an  hour  ago,  but  then  on 
the  other  hand  I  had  left  it  without  notice  to  anybody 
and  in  a  very  peculiar  way.  Nobody,  not  even  Eddie 
the  callboy,  knew  who  it  was  had  wanted  me  on  the 
phone  that  time,  and  it  begun  to  look  like  unless  Anita 
come  back  pretty  pronto,  I  was  going  to  be  out  of  luck. 
But  then  I  remembered  that  perhaps  Anita  herself  had 
killed  Strick  and  in  that  case  the  police  station  was  not 
where  she  would  head  for,  but  quite  to  the  contrary, 
because  from  what  I  knew  of  Anita  she  was  not  the 
type  of  girl  to  give  herself  up,  but  was  far  more  likely 
to  give  a  friend  up,  and  it  begun  more  clearly  every 


Laughter  Limited  307 

minute  to  look  like  that  was  exactly  what  she  had  done 
to  me. 

Of  course  the  guilty  one  might  still  be  Nickolls,  for 
he  and  Strick  had  lots  of  reason  for  a  quarrel,  while 
Anita  and  Strick  was  sweeties.  All  this  and  a  plenty 
more  kept  pouring  through  my  head  in  a  confused 
stream  while  I  and  the  officer  waited  for  what  seemed 
like  hours,  but  which,  by  the  clock  on  the  mantel,  was 
actually  less  than  twenty  minutes.  However,  under 
such  a  circumstance  as  I  was  in,  why  a  person  gets  a 
chance  to  go  over  their  whole  past  and  I  did,  including 
how  a  McFadden  was  never  before  arrested  as  far  as 
I  knew,  and  what  an  end  to  come  to  after  working  like 
I  done  all  my  life,  and  so  forth,  and  I'll  say  my  cour- 
age was  pretty  well  gone  by  the  time  a  couple  cars 
stopped  out  in  front. 

Well,  when  I  heard  these  two  cars  stop,  one  right 
after  the  other,  why  naturally  I  made  a  dash  for  the 
window,  and  then  I  felt  the  arm  of  the  law  in  reality, 
for  the  cop's  arm  caught  mine  and  he  threw  me  back 
onto  the  sofa  in  a  way  made  me  realize  for  fair  that 
I  was  now  no  lady  but  a  mere  prisoner. 

"Cut  that,  now!"  he  says.  "The  crowd  will  see 
you  soon  enough!" 

Well,  of  course  it  wasn't  the  mob  I  wanted  to  see 
or  the  detectives  either,  and  I  don't  know  where  the 
crowd  come  from,  but  it  was  the  truth  that  right  on 
the  heels  of  the  cops  a  few  people  had  at  once  gath- 
ered around.  I  could  hear  them  talking  and  making 
remarks,  and  over  all  Adele's  voice  as  she  told  the 
police  just  where  they  got  off,  and  why. 


308  Laughter  Limited 

"Hey !  You  will  so  let  me  right  in !"  says  mommer, 
high  and  firm.  "I  tell  you  my  daughter  is  in  there  and 
she  telephoned  me  to  come.  Prisoner  nothing!  I'll 
see  her  at  once.  You  just  get  out  of  my  way  afore  I 
have  to  push  you  out  and  you  have  to  arrest  the  both 
of  us!" 

Oh,  but  her  words  was  music  in  my  ears !  And  the 
sight  of  her  as  she  burst  into  that  room  was  like  a 
rampant  angel  or  something. 

"Oh,  mommer,  mommer!"  I  cried,  and  in  another 
instant  I  fell  in  her  arms. 

She  held  me  fast  and  courage  come  flowing  back  to 
my  heart  even  if  I  was  at  the  same  time  crying  it  out 
on  her  shoulder.  How  wonderful  she  was!  Her 
daughter!  She  claimed  me  for  it,  even  in  a  circum- 
stance like  that !  The  thought  give  me  strength  to  get 
myself  together  and  act  a  little  more  like  a  human  be- 
ing and  less  like  a  guilty  party. 

"What  is  all  this  about  ?"  says  mommer,  patting  my 
head  and  glaring  at  the  inspectors  who  followed  her 
in,  over  the  top  of  it.  "Strickland  murdered?  Good 
Gawd !  Well,  it  certainly  served  him  right  and  he  had 
it  coming  to  him,  but  my  Bonnie  had  nothing  to  do 
with  it,  I'll  tell  you  right  now!" 

"Deserved  it,  did  he,  eh?"  says  the  inspector,  going 
over  and  giving  a  look  at  Strick,  but  not  touching  him. 
"Perhaps  your  daughter  has  a  grudge  against  him, 
Mrs. — eh,  what  name?" 

"Delane!"  says  mommer.  "Mrs.  Delane  and  this  is 
Miss  Bonnie  Delane,  the  famous  star." 

"Whew!"    says   the   inspector.      "Is  that   correct? 


Laughter  Limited  309 

Well,  I've  always  heard  you  picture  people  lived  a  wild 
life.    What  did  you  say  this  man's  name  was?    Strick- 
land ?    What  made  you  think  he  deserved  such  a  finish 
eh?" 

"Because  he  was  a  no-good  lowlife!"  says  mommer 
hotly.  Then  she  caught  my  eye  and  stopped  short.  Al- 
together too  short,  as  I  could  see  from  the  inspector's 
face.  "That  is,"  she  went  on,  "they  say  he  had  a  bad 
reputation." 

"And  yet  your  daughter  is  found  here  under  most 
peculiar  circumstances,"  says  he.  "H'm!"  Then  he 
turned  to  me,  "Did  you  do  it?"  he  says  like  a  shot  out 
of  a  gun. 

"No!"  I  says.  "I  knew  him  a  long  time,  and  I 
wasn't  friends  with  him.  But  I  didn't  do  it.  I  come 
here  on  a  hurry  call  over  the  telephone  and  found  it — 
it  already  done." 

"Did  he  call  you  ?"  says  the  cop. 

"No,"  says  I.     "A  woman  did.    Anita  Lauber." 

"H'm !"  says  he  again,  plainly  not  believing  me  one 
scrap. 

Then  he  commenced  walking  around  the  room,  look- 
ing for  something.  My  heart  come  up  in  my  throat  as 
I  watched,  and  began  beating  there  to  such  a  extent 
that  I  could  hardly  breathe.  All  of  a  sudden  the  in- 
spector stopped  walking  in  front  of  the  young  cop,  the 
first  one,  and  shot  him  a  remark. 

"Where  is  the  weapon,  Brady?"  he  says.  The 
young  Irishman  opened  his  eyes  very  wide. 

"Why,  I  don't  know,  sir!"  says  he.  "I  don't  re- 
member seeing  any !" 


310  Laughter  Limited 

"That's  a  hell  of  a  note!"  says  his  superior,  real 
mad.  "What  were  you  doing  all  the  time  I  was  on 
my  way  out  ?  The  man  didn't  die  without  cause.  He 
was  shot.  The  gun  didn't  walk  away.  Search  the 
woman !" 

I  shrunk  back  against  Adele  when  he  said  that.  I 
felt  that  if  any  of  them  touched  me  I  would  die.  I 
couldn't  stand  it.  If  they  was  to  look  me  over  they 
would  get  it  anyways,  so  why  not  volunteer  and  save 
myself  the  mortification?  Thinking  this  I  put  my 
hand  down  the  front  of  my  dress  and  pulled  out  Nicky's 
gun.  It  was  the  only  thing  to  do. 

"Here  it  is !"  I  says.  "I  picked  it  up  from  the  floor 
when  I  come  in." 

"Aha !  I  thought  as  much !"  says  the  inspector,  his 
face  lighting  up  with  satisfaction,  and  reaching  out  for 
the  gun.  I  let  him  take  it  and  he  slipped  it  into  his 
pocket.  "I  am  much  obliged,  Miss  Delane,"  says  he. 
"A  very  simple  case,  this,  as  I  see  it.  Jealousy,  I  sup- 
pose. Will  you  come  along  quietly?  I  assure  you  it 
will  be  far  better  for  all  of  us  if  you  will." 

I  nodded  dumbly,  and  patted  Adele  on  the  hand,  for 
she  had  commenced  to  cry. 

"It's  all  right,  mommer,"  I  says.  "I  am  not  guilty 
and  they  can't  hurt  me  any.  Wait  and  see." 

"Guilty?"  says  mommer  between  sobs.  "I  should 
say  not !  Why,  mister,  that  gun  is  merely  a  stage  one 
and  belongs  to  Austin  Nickolls,  her  director.  He 
loaned  it  to  her." 

"Well,  she  seems  to  of  made  considerable  use  of  it!" 
says  he. 


Laughter  Limited  311 

"I  tell  you  I  didn't !"  I  says  wildly.  "I  never  fired 
it  but  once  in  my  life  and  that  was  in  a  picture !" 

Well,  just  as  I  had  shrieked  this  out  we  heard  a  bell 
clanging  down  the  street,  and  outside  the  door  the  by 
now  quite  large  crowd  set  up  a  murmuring  and  so 
forth,  and  it  was  the  ambulance  at  last,  and  pretty  soon 
in  come  the  doctor,  and  still  another  cop  was  with  him. 

"Hello,  Faulk !"  says  this  newcomer.  "Hello,  Brady. 
What's  up  ?"  Then  he  seen  Strickland,  and  next  my- 
self, standing  between  a  spare  cop  or  so,  and  mommer. 
His  eyes  like  all  the  rest,  nearly  bulged  out  at  my 
clothes. 

"Phew!"  says  he.  "Little  side  show  from  Mexico, 
eh  ?  Well,  let's  see  how  much  damage  the  lady  did !" 

That  was  the  most  awful  part  of  all,  the  way  every- 
body took  for  granted  that  I  was  guilty.  The  doc 
went  at  once  in  the  same  casual  way  over  to  Stricky, 
and  knelt  down  beside  him.  I  closed  my  eyes  as  he 
leaned  over  and  commenced  to  turn  the  body  around. 
The  room  went  black  to  me  and  there  was  a  moment 
of  deathly  silence.  And  then  there  come  a  strange 
sound.  It  was  a  full  moment  before  my  brain  reg- 
istered what  that  sound  meant.  And  then  in  a  mad 
rush  of  understanding  I  knew. 

Stricky  had  moaned. 

"Good  Lord!"  says  the  inspector.  "Then  he's  not 
dead?" 

"Not  in  the  least,"  says  the  glorious,  handsome  won- 
derful young  doctor  in  accents  like  magic.  "It's  hard 
to  kill  these  picture  hams — they  are  a  tough  lot.  He's 
had  a  bad  blow  on  the  head.  Very  likely  hit  it  on  the 


312  Laughter  Limited 

table  when  he  fell.  He's  been  shot  in  a  couple  of  places 
all  right,  but  they  don't  amount  to  much.  He'll  be 
around  in  a  day  or  two,  and  able  to  start  suit  to  his 
heart's  content!" 

Over  the  clamor  that  arose  then  come  Adele's  voice, 
strong  and  clear  as  a  steam  whistle. 

"If  Stricky  ain't  dead,  then  you  can't  hold  Bonnie !" 
she  yelled,  her  old  capable  self  once  more. 

"Yes,  we  can,"  says  the  inspector  sharply,  like  a  lion 
cheated  of  his  prey.  "We  must  make  sure  that  he  will 
live.  I  shall  have  to  make  an  arrest.  Sorry,  Mrs. 
Delane,  but  it  can't  be  helped.  The  evidence  is  too 
strong,  and  we  don't  allow  folks  to  go  around  shooting 
up  the  town,  you  know!" 

Well,  that  was  a  body  blow  again,  but  in  comparison 
to  what  five  minutes  ago  I  had  thought  I  was  up 
against,  it  was  a  mere  nothing !  Stricky  was  groaning 
good  and  healthy  as  they  carried  him  out  to  the  am- 
bulance, and  I  had  great  hopes.  And  considering  he 
had  been  cheated  of  a  first-class  Spanish-American 
murder  by  a  hair's  breadth  the  inspector  acted  real 
nice,  because  he  let  us  all  go  to  court  in  my  own  car  in- 
stead of  the  black  Maria.  And  to  tell  the  truth  even 
court  listened  well  to  me  in  comparison  to  that  awful 
bungalow  and  the  horrors  of  the  past  hour. 

I  don't  know  have  you  ever  been  in  court — that  is, 
as  a  prisoner.  But  if  ever  you  have  you  will  appre- 
ciate how  different  a  place  like  that  looks  to  a  near- 
convict  from  the  time  a  person  goes  there  merely  to 
look  on  and  say  ain't  crime  disgusting  and  thank  Gawd 
I  am  not  in  that  class  and  so  forth  the  way  some  people 


Laughter  Limited  313 

do.  And  if  a  person  is  at  all  sensitive,  why  after  once 
being-  innocent  but  hauled  before  a  police  captain  which 
is  where  we  was  hauled,  why  they  will  in  future  for 
the  rest  of  their  life  feel  hesitating  about  looking  over 
even  the  animals  in  a  zoo,  because  who  knows  but  they 
got  minds  and  can  suffer  the  same  as  we  ?" 

Well,  no  sensitive-plant  in  any  botanical  garden  had 
anything  on  me  for  misery  when  I  stood  up  before  the 
captain  and  told  my  story  about  Anita  and  Strick  and 
how  she  had  phoned  me  and  so  forth.  But  somehow 
I  went  through  with  it.  I  did  it  as  brave  and  quiet  as 
I  could  even  when  Nicky's  gun  was  brought  out  of  his 
pocket  by  the  inspector  and  laid  on  the  desk  in  front 
of  the  captain. 

"So  this  belongs  to  Austin  Nickolls,  does  it?"  says 
the  captain.  "A  fine  chap — I  met  him  once.  Didn't 
I  hear  some  talk  about  a  row  at  Atlas  Smith's  place 
last  night  ?  Where  is  Nickolls,  anyhow  ?" 

"Please,  I  think  he  is  at  home,"  I  says.  "If  he  had 
anything  to  do  with  this,  Your  Honor,  he  would  be  the 
first  to  report  it  his  own  self !" 

"I  believe  you!"  says  the  captain.  "Say,  Brady,  just 
see  if  you  can  get  a  line  on  Nickolls,  will  you?  Tele- 
phone his  house !" 

Well,  this  Brady  he  went  away  to  do  like  he  was  told, 
and  mommer  went  to  another  booth  to  call  the  studio 
and  get  Milton  Sherrill,  for  the  captain  was  a  good 
scout  and  a  fan  of  mine  and  Nicky's  and  says  well  he 
guessed  he  could  let  me  go  out  on  bail  if  it  was  big 
enough,  and  of  course  Milt  was  the  financial  man  to 
do  it.  And  also  some  officers  then  went  off  to  see  could 


314  Laughter  Limited 

they  locate  Anita  any  place,  and  for  another  long  dread- 
ful spell  of  endless  minutes  all  I  could  do  was  sit  still 
and  wait  and  wonder. 

When  I  thought  of  Milton  Sherrill  and  the  errand 
which  he  would  presently  come  here  on,  I  wished  that 
I  \vas  dead,  or  at  least  could  somehow  die  before  he 
saw  me,  or  rather  before  I  seen  the  coldness  which 
must  surely  come  on  his  face  when  he  found  me  a  jail 
bird,  or  practically  the  same  thing.  Whatever  I  had 
hoped  and  dreamed  of  for  the  future,  as  far  as  it  con- 
cerned Milt,  why  that  was  all  over  now.  I  was  dis- 
graced in  his  eyes  beyond  any  hope,  because  believe  me 
Milt  didn't  seem  the  kind  of  man  who  would  ever  think 
of  marrying  a  person  who  had  been  arrested  on  a 
charge  of  the  kind  that  I  had  been.  And  while  I  never 
for  one  moment  doubted  but  that  he  would  come  at 
once  and  go  on  my  bail,  and  so  forth,  why  the  news- 
papers would  hardly  keep  my  secret,  and  he  would  put 
me  out  of  his  mind  as  far  as  serious  intentions  went, 
because  of  course  his  wife  would  have  to  be  without  a 
reproach,  even  a  false  one.  It  was  realizing  this  wiped 
all  hope  out  for  me,  and  now  that  my  future  life  was 
ruined,  why  I  wasn't  sure  but  that  it  would  be  a  whole 
lot  happier  for  all  concerned  if  I  could  be  hanged  for 
Strick's  murder  after  all. 

Well,  in  a  police  court  time  don't  hang  heavy  on  a 
person's  hands,  at  least  not  if  they  are  the  prisoner  and 
things  keep  developing  in  the  way  of  evidence.  And 
just  as  I  had  got  so  low  in  my  mind  that  if  I  had  got 
any  lower  I  would  of  been  sunk  entirely,  why  in  comes 
Brady  with  news  to  the  effect  that  John  Austin  Nick- 


Laughter  Limited  315 

oils  was  not  only  out  but  he  hadn't  been  home  for  the 
last  twenty-four  hours,  and  his  car  hadn't  been  home, 
either. 

"That  looks  bad!"  says  the  captain  briskly,  in  the 
horrid  way  a  person  naturally  does  when  it  is  their 
business  to  hope  for  the  worst.  "Here  Nickolls  has  a 
fight  with  Gregory  Strickland,  and  the  next  thing  we 
know,  Strickland  is  found  unconscious  in  his  home, 
with  two  gun  wounds  in  him  made  by  Nickolls'  re- 
volver, and  Nickolls  has  vanished  without  a  word !" 

Well,  we  was  all  on  our  feet  by  then,  I'll  tell  the 
world,  our  eyes  glued  to  the  police  captain  as  he  talked 
with  relish.  And  because  of  this,  why  we  didn't  notice 
anybody  new  had  come  in  until  a  voice  behind  me  in- 
terrupted. 

"How  do  you  know  those  shots  were  fired  from 
Nickolls'  gun  ?"  says  the  voice,  very  clear  and  quiet. 

I  turned  around,  trembling  all  over,  and  there  was 
Milton  Sherrill.  It  was  him  who  had  spoke.  Then  he 
pointed  at  the  gun,  which  still  lay  on  the  captain's  desk 
where  the  inspector  had  put  it. 

"Has  anybody  taken  the  trouble  to  break  that  gun  ?" 
Milt  went  on. 

There  was  a  half  moment  of  surprised  chatter  before 
the  captain  commenced  to  rap  for  order  and  silence, 
and  so  forth.  But  he  took  up  the  gun  and  broke  it,  and 
behold !  the  gun  was  completely  empty ! 

"Well,  I'll  be  damned!"  says  the  captain,  mad  as  a 
hatter  and  immediately  finding  himself  a  alibi.  "Why 
the  devil  didn't  you  look  at  this  thing  properly,  Faulk, 
before  you  handed  it  over?  This  gun  is  not  only  un- 


316  Laughter  Limited 

loaded  but  it  has  not  been  fired  for  a  long  time.  Smell 
of  it!" 

Well,  the  inspector  took  the  gun  and  smelled  of  it 
like  he  had  been  told,  and  looked  a  perfect  fool.  But 
only  for  a  moment.  Then  he  turned  on  poor  Brady, 
who  seemed  the  most  convenient  goat. 

"Say,  Brady,  why  the  hell  didn't  you  break  this 
gun?"  he  demanded  furious.  "The  idea,  you  block- 
head!" 

"Excuse  me,  sir,"  says  Brady,  as  red  as  a  beet,  "but 
it  was  you  who  took  it  off  of  her." 

And  then  nobody  could  say  a  word  because  they 
had  all  acted  like  a  bunch  of  dumb-bell  cops  out  of  a 
Knute  Divers'  comedy  and  talking  wouldn't  help  any. 
Milton  Sherrill  smiled  a  grim  little  smile,  and  come 
over  to  my  side. 

"Don't  you  worry  about  this,  B.  McFadden!"  he 
says  in  a  low  tone.  "I  started  pulling  a  few  wires  on 
my  way  out,  and  the  bail  is  all  taken  care  of.  I  am 
sorry  to  keep  you  so  long,  but  I  came  as  quickly  as  I 
could." 

"Oh,  Milton !"  I  says.  "Say  it  wasn't  Nicky !  There 
are  other  guns  in  the  world,  you  know,  and  those  two 
had  an  awful  row!" 

"You  have  less  faith  in  Nick  than  I  have,"  says  Milt 
a  little  coolly,  or  so  I  imagined.  "He  has  gone  to  San 
Diego.  He  left  after  the  rumpus  last  night,  and  has 
been  driving  about  like  a  madman  ever  since,  to  cool 
off.  He  telephoned  me  from  there,  and  so  you  see  it 
is  impossible  for  him  to  be  implicated  in  any  way." 

"Thank  God !"  says  I.    And  then  I  went  sort  of  cold 


Laughter  Limited  317 

all  over,  because  why  should  Milt  put  so  much  stress 
on  Nicky's  innocence  and  say  so  little  about  my  own? 
Was  the  stain  on  my  good  name  working  as  fast  as  all 
that?  Oh,  it  was  dreadful!  All  at  once  I  realized  I 
had  come  to  the  end  of  my  nerve. 

"You  and  Adele  had  better  come  along  in  my  car," 
says  Milt  in  that  awful,  tense,  quiet  way.  "They  don't 
need  you  here  any  more,  B.,  and  won't  need  you  again 
unless  Strickland  makes  a  charge." 

His  tones  was  too  much  for  me.  I  couldn't  reason, 
I  couldn't  protest.  The  world  begun  to  go  black  before 
my  tired  eyes  and  I  felt  like  I  was  going  crazy,  or  about 
to  die,  or  something,  or  both !  Milt  did  not  care !  He 
had  come  only  for  business  reasons!  What  a  fool  I 
was,  what  a  fool,  and  how  awfully,  terribly,  I  loved 
him !  The  police-station  walls  commenced  acting  very 
funny;  they  leaned  towards  each  other.  The  ceiling 
slanted  and  the  floor  raised  up.  And  then  all  of  a 
sudden  there  was  no  Milt,  no  court  room,  no  nothing. 
Just  a  blackness  where  I  was  alone — entirely  alone. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

TT 7HEN  I  come  to  I  was  laying  in  my  own  bed, 
**  in  my  own  room  with  mommer  sponging  my 
forehead  with  something  cool  and  sweet-smelling,  and 
a  doctor  I  had  never  seen  before  but  he  had  a  kind 
face,  well,  he  was  saying  something  about  overstrained 
nerves  and  a  long  rest. 

Now  I'll  tell  the  world  that  right  up  to  the  point  of 
this  doctor  saying  this  mouthful,  I  had  an  idea  nerves 
was  something  to  be  pulled  as  an  excuse  and  nothing 
more,  and  believe  me  they  are  all  too  often  only  that. 
Nerves  is  mostly  nonsense,  but  sometimes  they  do  get 
overstrained,  and  it  sure  seemed  like  mine  had,  and  I 
come  to  realize,  through  the  week  that  followed  with 
me  that  had  never  before  been  sick  in  my  life,  laying 
flat  on  my  back,  that  maybe  a  rest  now  and  then  is  as 
important  to  a  person's  business  or  artistic  career  as 
hard  work  is.  Of  course  I  had  heard  this  remark  made 
in  the  past,  but  on  account  of  pop  being  the  one  who 
made  it,  why  I  had  not  thought  it  could  be  true. 

So  I  just  lay  there  quiet,  seeing  nobody  except  only 
mommer,  and  allowing  her  to  make  up  my  mind  for 
me  on  every  little  matter.  And  all  those  members  of 
the  public  which  their  family  has  allowed  them  to  take 
the  entire  responsibility  and  do  all  the  dirty  work  of 
supporting  the  home  and  so  forth,  will  at  once  realize 
how  much  I  enjoyed  being  sick.  And  all  this  time 

318 


Laughter  Limited  319 

mommer  wouldn't  let  me  say  one  word  about  Stricky, 
or  the  whole  affair. 

But  being  a  healthy  person  by  nature  and  disposition, 
and  a  worker  by  habit,  why  there  come  a  day  when  the 
novelty  wore  off  and  I  wanted  to  set  up  and  eat  meat 
and  hear  the  dirt.  And  it  happened  that  this  day  Nick- 
oils  come  to  see  how  was  I.  Of  course  he  had  done  it 
every  other  day  as  well,  but  up  to  now  I  hadn't  seen  him 
or  Bert  Green  or  even  Axel,  and  Gawd  knows  nobody 
could  rightly  accuse  Axel  of  being  a  mental  strain,  but 
mommer  would  let  him  up,  either.  Each  day  Milt  had 
called  up  or  sent  flowers  and  come  to  the  house  a  lot. 
But  him  I  would  not  of  faced  at  any  price,  just  then. 

Well,  this  meat-eating  day  I  am  telling  you  about, 
Nicky  come  at  the  right  moment.  And  when  mommer 
tiptoed  in  with  some  milk  toast  and  the  news  that  he 
was  downstairs  I  says  for  her  to  trade  in  them  slops 
for  a  hunk  of  raw  beef  or  something  and  to  send  him 
right  up,  because  my  mind  had  commenced  to  work, 
and  I  might  as  well  try  it  out  on  him  as  anybody. 

"Oh,  honey,  I  don't  know  should  I  let  you!"  says 
mommer.  "They  say  when  the  devil  is  ill  the  devil  a 
saint  will  be,  but  I  always  say  a  ounce  of  prevention  is 
better  than  a  relapse !" 

"Oh,  send  him  up,  mommer,  please !"  says  I.  "And 
I  will  promise  not  to  sprain  my  mind." 

So  mommer  says  all  right,  and  steered  the  bread  and 
milk  out  again  and  pretty  soon  Nicky  come  clumping 
up  in  the  bashful  way  a  decent  bachelor  has  in  a  girl's 
sick  room,  and  the  nicer  they  are  the  awkwarder.  But 
he  was  awful  glad  to  see  me,  and  set  down  at  once  on 


320  Laughter  Limited 

not  alone  the  side  of  my  bed  but  my  hot  water  bottle  as 
well,  only  I  wouldn't  call  his  attention  to  it  for  fear  of 
embarrassing  him  worse.  And  he  took  both  my  hands 
in  his  and  kissed  them  ind  couldn't  say  a  word  at  first, 
so  I  tactfully  and  affectionately  did. 

"Nicky  dear!"  I  says.  "Oh,  but  I  am  glad  to  see 
you !  You  are  the  only  one  I  could  talk  to,  and  I  just 
got  to  talk — I  got  such  a  lot  of  things  I  want  to  ask, 
and  mommer  keeps  giving  me  only  a  soft  answer. 
And  believe  me,  Nicky,  this  is  one  time  it  don't  turn 
away  wrath  but  I  dasn't  let  her  see  it." 

"Little  Bonnie!"  says  Nick.  "You  have  given  us 
such  a  scare !  Are  you  better,  really  ?" 

"You  bet  I  am!"  I  says.  "And  I  just  got  to  know 
what  has  been  going  on.  I  know  Strickland  didn't  die. 
Even  mommer  told  me  that  much.  But  what  has  he 
done?  And  Anita — where  was  she?  Were  the  news- 
papers dreadful?  Did  they  say  terrible  things  about 
me?  Oh,  Nicky,  tell  me  the  whole  truth — it  will  be 
so  much  easier  for  me  if  I  know,  than  it  is  to  lie  here 
imagining  things !" 

"Poor  kid!"  says  Nicky.  "Of  course  I  will.  Well 
then,  the  papers  aired  the  affair,  of  course,  but  they 
were  all  for  you,  Bonnie,  and  the  way  you  responded 
to  Anita's  call  for  help.  She  did  it,  of  course,  no  mat- 
ter what  Strickland  says  about  the  whole  thing  being 
an  accident." 

"An  accident!"  says  I.  "Of  course  that  was  it!  I 
should  have  guessed.  Go  on,  Nicky !" 

"Well,  when  the  good-for-nothing  scamp  came  to 
in  the  hospital  he  spilled  the  beans  at  first.  He  was 


Laughter  Limited  321 

mad  at  Anita,  mad  enough  to  have  her  arrested.  But 
he  reneged,  later.  It  appears  that  Anita  was  jealous 
of  him,  and  that  she  was  in  debt  up  to  her  neck.  Strick- 
land had  promised  her  five  hundred  dollars  to  keep  her 
from  being  put  out  of  her  place,  and  then  as  usual,  he 
hadn't  made  good.  He'd  stalled  her  off  for  several 
days.  The  afternoon  of  the  shooting  Anita  came  to  see 
him,  desperate  for  her  money.  Kit  Knute  had  thrown 
her  over  when  she  took  up  with  Greg,  and  she  was  out 
of  work.  I  suppose  Strickland  couldn't  come  across 
and  they  had  a  row.  He  now  says  Anita  took  his  gun 
out  of  the  top  drawer  of  his  bureau  and  threatened  to 
kill  herself,  and  that  he  seized  it.  They  struggled  and 
the  gun  went  off.  At  least  that's  his  present  version. 
He  has  told  several,  each  more  dramatic  than  the  last. 
But  he  won't  press  any  charge,  and  she  has  left  town." 

"How  dreadful!"  I  says.  "Where  was  Anita  that 
afternoon  when  I — when " 

"They  found  her  back  in  her  room,  full  of  hop,"  says 
Nicky.  "She  had  the  gun  with  her  and  she  was  too 
dazed  to  even  attempt  getting  way.  Her  creditors  auc- 
tioned her  furnishings  yesterday.  It's  a  nasty  mess,  lit- 
tle Bonnie,  but  it  is  behind  you,  remember  that.  You 
have  got  to  put  it  out  of  your  mind." 

"Somehow  I  don't  see  able  to,"  I  says.  "Oh,  Nicky, 
what's  the  matter  with  Hollywood  ?  Why  do  we  get 
in  such  messes?" 

"We  don't,  generally,"  says  he  promptly  and  firmly. 
"The  rotters  do.  And  there  are  a  few  rotters  in  every 
profession,  Bonnie.  Our  community,  through  its  very 
nature,  is  more  conspicuous,  that  is  all." 


322  Laughter  Limited 

"I  don't  know  that  you  are  right,  Nicky!"  I  says 
earnestly.  "I  want  to  get  away  from  this  town  for  a 
while,  and  think  things  over.  I've  had  a  big  jolt,  and 
I  got  to  get  myself  straightened  out.  I  want  to  go  some 
place  where  I  am  away  even  from  you  and  mommer 
and  so  forth,  and  where  there  is  nothing  to  remind  me 
of  the  studio." 

"You  must  do  it,  then,"  says  Nicky,  understanding 
at  once.  "We  will  wait  for  you,  on  The  Scarlet  Let- 
ter. You  are  not  to  come  back  to  work  until  you  are 
well." 

"Oh !"  says  I.  "The  picture !  We  was  right  in  the 
middle  of  it,  wasn't  we?  But  I  can't  come  back  just 
yet.  I  got  to  have  a  breathing  spell." 

"I  tell  you  what,"  says  Nicky.  "You  go  out  to  my 
ranch  for  a  week.  At  least  I  call  it  that.  In  reality 
it's  just  a  shack  down  near  Santa  Ana,  but  over  on  the 
ocean  side.  It's  miles  from  anywhere,  and  is  the  place 
I  run  to  when  I  need  perspective.  There  is  a  nice  old 
couple  who  live  there  and  look  after  it  for  me,  and  I'll 
write  them  to-night.  It's  just  the  place  you  need." 

I  looked  at  his  kind  eager  face  and  the  tousled  lion 
curls,  and  my  eyes  filled  with  tears  like  a  regular  senti- 
mental dumb-bell.  To  think  I  had  such  a  grand  friend ! 

"Nicky,  you  are  a  peach  and  I  will  accept!"  I  says 
gratefully.  "It  will  be  like  escaping  into  heaven." 

And  it  was.  There  is  some  people  thinks  California 
is  Hollywood,  and  some  that  thinks  it  is  San  Francisco 
or  Los  Angeles,  and  yet  again  a  few  who  admit  there 
are  groves,  and  so  forth.  But  the  part  of  California 
which  best  expresses  the  spirit  of  it  all  is  not  the  pros- 


Laughter  Limited  323 

perous  cities  or  orange  trees  or  walnuts  and  grapes  or 
good  roads,  though  there  are  enormous  crops  of  all 
these,  but  the  naked  rolling  hills  of  California  which 
swell  and  fall  in  great  smooth  sweeps  along  the  coast 
between  the  valleys  and  the  sea. 

These  hills  is  peculiar,  I  do  believe,  and  like  no 
others  in  the  world.  They  are  profoundly  quiet  and 
though  bare,  are  full  of  promise.  They  are  open  and 
plain  to  see  for  miles  whichever  way  you  look,  and  in 
the  canons  between  them  there  is  great  oaks  growing 
clean  and  strong,  small  forests  of  ancient  giants  as  you 
might  say,  evergreen  and  tremendous,  once  you  are 
down  among  them,  but  seen  from  the  bare  crest  of  the 
nearest  hill  they  seem  a  mere  patch  of  darkness  or  like 
the  shadow  from  a  cloud.  And  along  the  outer  edge 
of  these  hills  and  canons  sweeps  hundreds  of  miles  of 
golden  beach  with  them  lace- fringed  jade-green  break- 
ers breaking  on  them,  like  I  have  told  you  before,  and 
in  the  lonely  places,  wild  sea  birds  by  the  thousands, 
crying. 

But  it  ain't  lonesome,  none  of  it.  Because  a  person 
knows  them  treeless  hills  are  so  rich  that  you  could 
grow  roses  on  them  anywheres.  All  through  the  dry 
season  they  are  brown,  and  then  like  a  miracle  a  week 
of  rain  will  have  them  green  as  the  far-famed  ones  of 
Ireland  only  with  the  addition  of  golden  poppies.  And 
another  reason  why  these  vast  hills  is  not  a  lonesome 
place.  They  are  well-proportioned.  You  don't  feel  lost 
in  a  big  room  if  it  is  shaped  right.  And  the  same  is 
true  of  these  hills  I  am  telling  you  about,  and  there  is 
no  use  in  you  laughing  and  passing  some  remark  to 


324  Laughter  Limited 

the  effect  that  Nature  can't  go  wrong  and  so  forth,  be- 
cause that  is  a  big  mistake  and  Nature  has  pulled  a  lot 
of  boners  the  same  as  any  natural  person  does,  but  the 
California  coast  is  a  big  success,  and  its  beauty  both 
rests  and  inspires  a  person,  no  matter  how  many  times 
they  see  it. 

Well  anyways,  this  ranch  which  Nicky  loaned  me 
was  set  on  one  of  these  hills  like  as  per  see  above,  and 
it  was  the  very  place  I  needed.  I  had  trouble  getting 
away  from  mommer  but  finally  I  did,  and  for  a  week  I 
rode  the  lonesome  trails  around  the  neighborhood  of 
this  ranch  on  Nicky's  little  old  friendly  pinto  pony,  or 
sat  on  the  porch  and  watched  the  Pacific  swallow  the 
setting  sun,  and  I  thought  and  thought  and  each  day 
things  got  clearer  to  me  about  what  I  had  ought  to  do 
with  the  rest  of  my  life.  And  the  conclusion  I  come  to 
was  that  I  would  have  to  leave  the  pictures. 

It  was  a  terrible  decision,  and  just  what  I  would  go 
to  work  at  after  I  got  out,  I  hadn't  decided.  I  couldn't 
see  beyond  the,  as  you  might  say,  fatal  step.  But  to 
continue  working  in  the  same  business,  on  the  same 
lot  with  Milton  Sherrill  now  that  I  was  automatically 
put  out  of  reach  of  ever  being  his  wife,  was  impossible. 

Nobody  had  come  near  me  during  the  time  on  the 
ranch,  and  I  had  not  even  had  a  letter  from  mommer. 
I  had  expressly  wanted  to  be  cut  off  entirely  from  the 
world,  and  things  had  worked  out  fine,  for  I  now  had 
my  decision  clear.  I  would  go  and  see  Milt  and  tell 
him  that  while  I  would  of  course  finish  the  interrupted 
picture,  it  would  have  to  be  my  last  one,  and  I  would 
beg  him  to  let  me  out  of  the  rest  of  my  contract. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

'~pvHE  moving-picture  world  is  the  only  one  where  a 
A  lady  can  safely  reminisce  without  its  being  a 
confession  of  age.  To  recall  the  days  when  Lillian 
Gish  was  knee-high  to  a  vaudeville  act  is  no  sign  a  per- 
son is  in  any  dotage,  and  even  the  ones  who  admit  to 
remembering  when  Charlie  Chaplin  was  only  getting 
five  hundred  a  week  don't  necessarily  have  to  be  gray 
around  the  temples. 

And  seeing  that  to  be  the  true  fact,  why  naturally  I 
personally  myself  do  not  hesitate  to  publicly  look  back 
to  the  day  of  my  interview  with  Milton  and  all  that  it 
has  since  come  to  mean  to  pictures.  Of  course  I  got 
as  much  modesty  as  any  other  successful  woman,  but  I 
can't  help  but  realize  that  only  for  things  working  the 
way  they  done,  why  pictures  would  not  be  what  they  are 
to-day. 

Well  anyways,  I  set  out  from  Nicky's  ranch  alone 
in  my  car,  my  mind  all  made  up  to  go  right  to  the 
Silvermount  lot  and  get  things  over  and  done  with. 
For  if  a  person  has  decided  to  have  a  tooth  out,  or  take 
up  a  note,  or  any  other  painful  operation,  why  it  is  a 
good  plan  to  have  it  no  sooner  said  than  done,  as  the 
poet  says,  and  so  I  didn't  even  go  home  to  my  Spanish 
Fandango  first,  but  merely  telephoned  mommer  that  I 
was  headed  for  the  studio,  made  sure  Milt  was  going  to 
be  in  his  office  and  got  on  my  way. 

325 


326  Laughter  Limited 

Well,  I'll  tell  the  world  I  was  as  depressed  as  a  cold 
waffle  when  I  left  the  ranch.  Sweet  daddy!  I'll  say 
so !  Because  here  I  was  about  to  zinc  my  life  ambition 
and  so  forth,  and  the  nearer  I  got  to  Hollywood  the 
less  I  liked  my  duty,  and  the  temptation  to  shrink  it 
stole  over  me  like  a  frost.  As  I  went  by  the  Muro  lot, 
which  was  the  first  big  studio  that  I  had  to  pass  on  my 
way  in  town,  my  heart  give  a  silent  groan  as  you  might 
say,  like  a  mother  responding  to  her  babe,  and  then  it 
give  a  leap  of  curiosity,  because  the  Muro  was  plainly 
closed. 

Well,  well,  I  thought,  ain't  it  remarkable  how  things 
changes  in  the  pictures  and  when  you  come  back  after 
being  away  for  a  week,  why,  you  never  can  tell  who 
has  failed  or  succeeded,  and  Gawd  knows  maybe  I  will 
find  that  A'xel  is  now  a  star,  and  I  says  this  to  myself 
because  it  was  the  most  unlikely  thing  that  I  could 
imagine. 

The  town  of  Hollywood  itself  was  in  one  of  its  gay 
moods  too.  It  seemed  to  me  I  had  never  been  there 
when  it  was  so  crowded  with  snappy  people  and  bright 
clothes,  and  even  the  gardens  looked  like  they  had  burst 
out  into  extra  blooms  just  to  get  my  goat.  It  all  looked 
good  in  the  way  anything  you  are  about  to  give  up  for- 
ever, does,  and  any  woman  who  has  given  away  a  dress 
or  a  hat,  if  nothing  more  serious,  will  at  once  under- 
stand my  feelings. 

The  usual  herd  of  cars  was  crowded  about  the  Sil- 
vermount  curbs,  and  there  sure  was  nothing  shut-up- 
looking  about  our — that  is,  their,  lot !  Actually  it  made 
me  a  little  sore  to  see  things  going  on  much  the  same 


Laughter  Limited  327 

and  in  fact  a  little  more  so  while  I  was  away  and  was, 
further,  about  to  get  out  for  good.  Busy  ?  Right  then 
the  Silvermount  looked  like  the  busiest  place  in  Amer- 
ica. A  big  crowd  of  extras  was  going  off  on  a  desert 
location,  and  Axel  in  a  Arab  costume  waved  to  me 
from  the  middle  of  the  bunch  as  I  parked  my  car  and 
headed  for  the  office.  Nicky  grabbed  me  by  both  hands 
at  the  main  entrance,  and  then  dusted  away  in  a  big 
hurry. 

Once  inside,  and  past  the  welcome  of  the  office  force, 
I  could  see  Trixie  Trueman,  with  McGee  directing, 
working  over  on  Number  Four.  They  were  making  a 
drawing-room  sequence,  and  somehow  the  sight  made 
me  wild.  Everywhere,  all  around  me,  the  crowd  was 
busy,  hard  at  work,  interested,  and  suddenly  the  full 
realization  come  over  me  that  all  this  had  been  going 
on  while  I  was  away  and  would  continue  to  go  on  after 
I  had  left.  And  at  the  thought  something  inside  my 
mind  got  up  on  its  hind  legs  and  hollered,  and  it  was 
all  I  could  do  to  keep  the  tears  of  self-pity  out  of  my 
eyes. 

"Now,  B.  McFadden,"  I  says  to  myself,  "y°u  keep 
steady!  Your  mind  is  made  up — a  real  decision  that 
was  two  weeks  in  growing.  So  don't  you  go  letting 
any  momentary  jazz  upset  the  whole  business!" 

And  then,  feeling  considerably  stronger,  I  went  along 
to  Milton's  office  and  says  to  the  outside  girl  can  I  see 
him  and  she  says  yes,  in  a  moment,  he  is  busy.  And 
actually  I  had  to  set  and  wait,  and  this  didn't  make  me 
a  whole  lot  happier,  either.  Sweet  daddy!  I  could 
actually  feel  my  strength  of  mind  running  out  the 


328  Laughter  Limited 

end  of  my  fingers  and  toes!  It  made  me  wild  to  sit 
there  like  a  dumb-bell  applying  for  her  first  job  or 
something,  and  I  wanted  to  show  them  I  was  some- 
body. Then  I  again  remembered  I  was  getting  out,  and 
that  a  year  from  now  nobody  would  even  remember 
who  I  was,  or  anything ! 

Well,  in  the  middle  of  these  happy  thoughts  Slim 
Rolf  come  out  of  the  teakwood  temple  and  says  hello 
Bonnie  glad  you  are  back  and  so  forth,  and  then  I  ac- 
tually got  permission  to  go  in  to  see  Milt.  And  when  I 
got  in  he  was  alone  but  talking  on  the  telephone,  and 
so  merely  give  me  a  gesture  to  sit  down,  which  I  did, 
mad  clean  through.  And  then  I  waited  and  waited 
while  Milt  listened  and  says  Yeh,  yeh,  no  Al,  yeh,  for 
what  seemed  about  a  year.  Then  at  last  he  hung  up. 

"Well,  B. !"  he  says.  "I  say,  this  is  fine !  You  look 
wonderfully,  and  it  does  my  eyes  good  to  see  you  back 
again.  Are  you  absolutely  all  right  ?" 

"Yes,  Milt,"  I  says  firmly.  "I  am  righter  than  I've 
been  in  a  long  time.  So  right  that  I " 

"Great,  great !"  he  interrupted  me,  slapping  the  arms 
of  his  chair  and  springing  up.  "Able  to  come  back  to 
work  to-morrow?" 

"Yes,  Milt,"  I  says.  "I  can  come  back  and  get  this 
picture  finished  right  away,  but  then " 

"Then  we  are  going  to  put  you  over  really  big !"  says 
Milt.  "Look  nere,  B.,  do  you  remember  that  picture 
you  made  with  Nickolls — Alias  Cinderella  ?" 

Did  I  remember  it  ?    Sweet  daddy ! 

"Say  listen,  Milt,  are  you  cuckoo?"  I  says.    "I  guess 


Laughter  Limited  329 

my  memory  is  that  long,  all  right.  I'm  hardly  likely  to 
forget  that  one  time  I  was  a  star." 

"Well,"  says  he,  deadly  serious,  "it  is  a  great  picture ! 
I  saw  it  last  week  up  at  Fresno,  and  I  have  bought  it 
in  cheap.  We  are  going  to  call  it  The  Stepchild  and 
release  it  as  a  new  issue  with  you  as  the  star.  We  will 
spend  a  lot  of  money  on  it,  and  it  will  be  the  picture 
of  the  year.  Why,  it's  a  great  picture,  I  tell  you,  B., 
and  you  certainly  have  a  wonderful  future !" 

Whatter  you  know  about  that!  I  felt  kind  of  limp 
and  weak,  and  floored.  Nicky's  picture !  How  things 
did  work  around  in  circles  for  sure.  Poor  Nicky,  after 
all  his  labor,  the  result  would  appear  as  a  Silvermount 
release.  It  wasn't  fair !  And  yet  it  couldn't  be  helped, 
for  apparently  that  was  the  way  the  picture  business 
was  always  done.  I  felt  sick  over  it,  and  I  tried  to  tell 
Milt  so.  But  as  he  sat  there,  his  handsome  face  all 
alight  with  excitement  and  interest,  why  what  I  had 
come  to  say  wouldn't  quite  reach  my  lips. 

"I  had  no  idea  you  could  act  as  you  did  in  that  pic- 
ture!" Milt  was  saying.  "Why,  child,  you  are  amaz- 
ing!" Then  he  pulled  a  line  which  at  first  I  couldn't 
realize  that  he  had  said  it,  and  thought  well,  I  guess  I 
didn't  hear  right.  "And  it's  not  only  because  I  love  you 
that  I  think  you  are  a  great  actress,"  says  he. 

I  could  only  stare  at  him  without  a  word.  He  got 
up  and  come  over  and  sat  beside  me  on  the  window- 
seat,  which  is  where  I  was. 

"B.  McFadden,  don't  tell  me  that  you  are  surprised," 
says  he.  "You  must  have  known  it  all  along.  Why,  I 


330  Laughter  Limited 

have  loved  you  since  that  very  first  day  on  the  train. 
When  will  you  marry  me,  dear?" 

Well,  I  got  considerable  respect  for  my  public,  and 
of  course  will  admit  they  got  a  right  to  know  all  about 
me  up  to  a  certain  point,  beyond  which  they  can  go  no 
whicher.  Also  I  realize  that  a  public  person  and  great 
artist  has  no  private  life  and  so  forth,  but  there  is  a 
limit  to  even  that,  just  the  same,  and  refinement  com- 
pels me  to  draw  the  line  some  place,  and  that  place  is 
the  rest  of  what  I  and  Milt  said  and  did  after  the  above 
sequence,  and  I  am  not  going  to  give  you  the  conven- 
tional full  close-up.  Anyways,  the  censors  have  taken 
to  timing  them  close-up  kisses  and  would  surely  of  cut 
ours  down.  Well  anyways,  after  a  time-lapse  sub-title 
of  Later,  Milton  and  I  commenced  to  get  sensible,  and 
then  I  told  him  what  I  had  come  in  to  say  in  the  first 
place. 

"Dear !"  I  says,  "I  will  marry  you  any  time  you  say. 
But  oh,  Milt,  I  want  to  get  out  of  the  pictures.  Now 
more  than  ever." 

"Why?"  says  he.  "What  is  on  your  mind  about 
them,  honey?" 

"Well,"  says  I,  "I  don't  quite  know.  But  they  are  a 
rotten  game,  Milt.  Not  healthy,  somehow.  A  great 
art,  yes,  I  will  admit  that,  but  working  in  them  does 
something  awful  to  people.  Can't  you  see  it,  yourself? 
It's  like  a  poison  and  it  demoralizes  them  pretty  nearly 
all." 

"I  know  what  you  mean,"  he  says  frowning  over  it. 
"Yet  that  should  not  be  necessary.  You  mean  the  lax 
living  and  thinking  which  one  falls  into  so  easily  out 


Laughter  Limited  331 

here.     Sometimes  I  believe  that  this  semi-tropical  cli- 
mate is  as  much  to  blame  as  the  pictures  are." 

"Well,  the  combination  of  the  two  is  hard  on  ordin- 
ary mortals  with  only  average  morals,"  I  says.  "I 
don't  know  do  I  want  to  waste  my  energy  fighting  the 
something  that  is  in  the  air  here,  darling.  I  was 
brought  up  in  New  England,  Milt,  and  so  was  you, 
hon,  and  there  is  something  in  this  outfit  as  a  whole 
that  goes  against  us,  and  what  we  was  taught  to  believe 
was  decent  and  right." 

"I  know !"  he  says  thoughtfully. 

"Before  I  come  here  to-day,"  I  says,  "I  had  made  up 
my  mind  I  was  through.  For  more  than  one  reason. 
And  now  I  want  to  be  just  your  wife,  hon,  and  to  make 
you  a  good  home,  and  lay  off  of  acting.  And  I  don't 
want  to  do  it  in  Hollywood,  either,  but  in  our  own 
kind  of  atmosphere  where  we  belong." 

"Dearest!"  says  Milt. 

Later.    That's  another  time  lapse,  see  ? 

"You  are  dead  right,"  says  he.  "We  don't  belong 
in  this  game,  and  we  will  get  out.  Why,  don't  you  re- 
member how  opposed  to  the  pictures  I  was  when  you 
first  met  me  ?  I  told  you  I  hoped  never  to  touch  them. 
Well,  I  was  right,  you  see!" 

And  although  this  sounded  a  little  prematurely  mar- 
ried as  you  might  say,  why  I  let  it  go  and  smiled  at  him 
in  agreement. 

"Why,  hon,  being  married  to  you  will  use  up  all  the 
talent  I've  got!"  I  says,  laughing.  "And  if  I  can  act 
the  part  of  a  good  wife,  why  I  will  be  perfectly  satis- 
fied. I'm  just  sick  of  these  parts  where  I  have  to  vamp, 


332  Laughter  Limited 

and  of  going  for  my  recreation  to  parties  where  they 
mix  the  cocktails  in  a  washing  machine !" 

"And  I  am  tired  of  being  out  of  my  element  too!" 
Milt  declared.  "Where  shall  we  live,  B.  ?  Name  the 
place  and  you  shall  have  it!" 

"Oh,  Milt!"  I  says,  slipping  my  arms  around  his 
neck.  "How  about  Stonybrook?  Your  dear  mother's 
house  would  be  the  ideal  home  for  the  both  of  us,  dear, 
and  living  in  it  would  help  us  cling  to  our  ideals !" 

"Bonnie!  Would  you,  really?"  says  Milt.  "You 
blessed  child,  nothing  would  make  me  happier  than  to 
call  the  old  place  home  once  more !" 

Well,  that  was  all  settled  and  the  anxious  reader  can 
write  in  another  time  lapse  and  then  consider  that  I 
have  broke  away  again  because  of  something  very  im- 
portant occurring  to  me. 

"Milt!"  I  says.  "What  do  you  know?  I  had  for 
the  minute  forgotten  all  about  mommer !" 

"I  should  hope  you  would!"  says  he  laughing. 
"Such  things  are  allowable  at  these  times,  surely !  And 
after  all,  she  is  not  your  real  mother,  you  know." 

"But  I  love  her,  Milt!"  I  says  earnestly.  "Perhaps 
I  love  her  even  more  than  I  would  if  she  was  the  genu- 
ine article.  You  see  I  could  never  afford  to  fight  with 
her  like  I  might  of  done  if  we  had  been  relatives.  So 
we  have  shown  each  other  only  our  best  sides  and  are 
more  than  mother  and  daughter,  because  we  are  friends. 
And  I  can't  go  back  on  her  now.  I  can't  desert  her, 
Milt,  when  I  marry  you." 

"Well,"  says  Milt,  "Mrs.  Delane  is  a  fine  woman, 
B.,  and  I  will  never  forget  what  she  has  done  for  you, 


Laughter  Limited  333 

dear.  If  you  wish  her  to  make  her  home  with  you  I 
won't  oppose  it." 

"Oh,  Milt,  you  are  too  wonderful !"  I  says.  "I  just 
couldn't  endure  to  think  of  Adele  spending  a  lonely  old 
age,  and  of  course  she  has  got  no  one  but  me.  What  a 
lovely  time  we  will  have  out  of  the  pictures,  in  our  old 
New  England  home,  with  mommer  and  everyone." 

"Except  pop!"  says  Milt.    "I  draw  the  line  at  pop!" 

"And  so  do  I !"  I  says.  "Pop  has  simply  got  to  learn 
to  work  for  his  own  living,  and  you  must  back  me  up 
and  refuse  to  help  him !" 

"I  will,"  says  Milt  firmly. 

Well,  everything  was  beautifully  settled  by  then  and 
I  felt  as  if  I  was  in  a  trance  or  a  happy  dream  or  some- 
thing, and  it  was  sure  a  great  relief  to  know  that  soon 
we  would  be  leaving  all  this  behind  us  and  so  forth. 
And  then  all  at  once  like  approaching  thunder  there 
was  footsteps  pounding  down  the  hall  as  if  a  elephant 
had  broke  loose  from  our  animal  department,  and  the 
teakwood  flew  open  and  in  rushed  Big  Benny  with 
neither  coat  or,  for  once,  any  cigar  in  his  face,  and 
what  little  hair  he  had  was  sticking  up  wildly  with  ex- 
citement. The  Big  Egg  was  all  red  in  the  face,  and 
for  the  first  few  moments  he  couldn't  speak  a  word, 
but  only  blow  and  wave  his  hands  in  a  few  wild  native 
gestures. 

"What  do  you  think?"  he  gasped  at  last.  "We  can 
buy  out  Muro  cheap !  Only  seventeen  million  dollars ! 
Oy !  Such  good  news !" 

"What?"  exclaimed  Milt,  all  excited  too.  "Only 
seventeen  millions  ?  Why,  that's  throwing  it  away !" 


334  Laughter  Limited 

"Sure  it  is !  What  you  think  I  got  such  excitement 
over  it  for,  else?"  says  Benny  wiping  his  streaming 
face.  "Say  listen,  for  three  years  I  been  trying  for  a 
merger  with  them  people,  and  now  is  our  chance. 
Why,  it's  the  opportunity  of  a  lifetime!  When 
we  got  this  combination,  believe  me,  we  will  rule  the 
industry!" 

"That's  so,  Ben!"  says  Milt.  "Why  man,  it's  the 
biggest  thing  in  years.  With  their  lot  and  ours  com- 
bined we  could  make  some  superproductions  that  would 
knock  the  eye  out  of  these  German  pictures.  And  the 

clear  field  it  would  give  us Say,  listen,  does  Muro 

himself  want  to  stay  in  ?" 

"Sure  he  does!"  says  Benny.  "He's  in  my  office 
now,  waiting." 

"If  he  wants  to  come  to  us,"  says  Milt  intently,  "that 
means  it's  the  real  thing.  If  he  was  merely  offering  to 
sell  out  I  wouldn't  trust  the  crook.  He'd  probably  in- 
tend floating  something  new !" 

"And  with  the  Muro  releases  as  well  as  our  own," 
says  I  breathlessly,  "look  at  the  field  a  star  would  have ! 
Twice  the  ordinary  publicity!" 

"You  sure  would  have  it,  honey!"  says  Milt.  "By 
heaven,  I  didn't  have  any  idea  you  would  really  be 
able  to  pull  the  trick,  Ben!  I  congratulate  you!" 

"Congratulate  also  yourself!"  says  Benny  as  the  two 
of  them  shook  hands  like  a  coupla  crazy  schoolboys. 
"As  the  financial  head  of  the  concern,  Milton,  believe 
me  you  got  the  greatest  future  in  the  industry,  and  I 
must  say  you  are  a  wonderful  manager !" 

"Ben,  you  are  a  marvel !"  says  Milt,  and  they  regu- 


Laughter  Limited  335 

larly  danced  around  at  that  while  I  stood  with  my 
hands  clasped  tight  on  my  chest,  watching  them  and 
thinking  my  Gawd  but  Mary  Pick  ford  has  never  had 
half  the  advertising  which  I  will  get  from  this  merger 
and  won't  I  just  work  like  a  hound  so  as  to  deserve 
every  little  bit  of  it  too !  And  then  pretty  soon  them 
two  clowns  come  down  to  earth  and  Milt  turned  back 
to  the  Big  Egg  real  serious. 

"Benny!"  he  says.  "There  is  something  even  more 
magnificent  than  this  merger  which  I  am  to  be  con- 
gratulated on.  Bonnie  is  going  to  marry  me,  old- 
timer!" 

"So?"  says  Benny,  beaming.  "Well,  that  is  cer- 
tainly grand  news.  I  do  congratulate  the  two  of  you, 
and  am  glad  I  was  able  to  bring  it  such  a  fine  engage- 
ment present  like  I  done  just  now,  and  to  know  the 
big  merger  will  be  all  the  stronger  for  keeping  the  both 
of  you  in  it !" 

Well,  when  Big  Ben  pulled  that  line,  why  all  at  once 
I  and  Milt  exchanged  a  look  like  a  coupla  sheep.  And 
it  is  Gawd's  truth  that  up  to  the  very  minute,  Stony- 
brook  and  the  old  home  and  our  pure  and  domestic  fu- 
ture had  been  wiped  right  out  of  our  mind.  Our  spon- 
taneous joy  about  Muro  had  showed  up  the  both  of  us 
pretty  clear*,  too,  because  it  proved  what  was  closest  to 
our  hearts.  And  sweet  daddy,  didn't  we  feel  like  a 
coupla  fools  though!  But  being  engaged  to  be  mar- 
ried had  already  filled  me  with  the  conventional  sense 
of  wifely  sacrifice,  and  so  I  hurried  to  find  a  excuse  and 
volunteered  to  be  the  goat  and  save  Milton's  pride  and 
so  forth. 


336  Laughter  Limited 

"Milt,"  I  says,  "haven't  you  practically  promised  to 
sign  that  contract  to  stay  on  here  ?" 

"Well  yes,  I  practically  had,"  says  he,  looking  at  the 
toe  of  his  shoe. 

"Well,  I  don't  want  to  influence  you  any,  hon,"  I 
says,  "but  honest,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  go  back  on 
them  now." 

"I  suppose  not,"  says  Milt.  "But  how  about  Stony- 
brook  ?  My  promise  to  you  is  even  more  important,  B." 

"Oh,  that  will  be  all  right!"  I  says  hastily.  "You 
see,  come  to  remember  it,  I  got  a  contract  all  signed 
myself,  for  two  more  pictures  with  this  concern,  and  I 
couldn't  hardly  break  that,  now  could  I  ?" 

"Why,  see  here,  hon,  I  wouldn't  dream  of  asking  you 
to  do  any  such  thing !"  Milt  declared  indignantly. 

And  as  of  course  I  wouldn't  attempt  to  go  against  his 
will  in  anything,  why  that  settled  matters  and  we  mu- 
tually understood  that  we  was  to  stay. 

While  all  this  was  going  on  Ben  stood  looking  from 
one  to  the  other  of  us,  rubbing  his  hands  nervously. 

"Say  listen!"  says  he.  "You  wasn't  thinking  about 
quitting,  for  heaven's  sake?  What  nonsense!" 

"I  think  perhaps  it  was  nonsense !"  Milt  admitted  to 
him.  "But  I  will  sign  that  contract,  Ben,  for,  let  us 
say,  three  years.  And  we  will  close  with  Muro  at  once. 
When  my  contract  and  B.'s  run  out,  then  will  be  time 
enough  to  decide  whether  we  want  to  go  on  in  the  pic- 
tures or  not!" 

"That  means  you  are  in  them  forever!"  says  the  Big 
Egg  enthusiastically. 


Laughter  Limited  337 

And  with  them  words  of  wisdom  he  rushed  off  to 
catch  Muro's  mind  while  it  was  still  that  way.  When 
the  door  had  shut  behind  him  I  come  over  to  Milt,  and 
putting  my  hands  on  his  shoulders  I  looked  him  square 
in  the  eyes. 

"Dear!"  I  says.  "We  won't  kid  ourselfs.  Once  in 
the  pictures,  always  in  them.  Isn't  that  so?" 

"I  expect  you  are  right,  B.,"  says  Milt.  "And  after 
all  they  are  the  greatest  game  on  earth  to-day.  I'll  be 
honest  about  it.  I  want  to  stay!" 

"So  do  I !"  I  cried.  "Oh,  Milt,  together  we  will  make 
the  greatest  pictures  the  country  has  ever  seen." 

"On  a  clean  lot,"  says  Milt. 

"With  no  favorites,"  says  I. 

"And  no  graft !"  says  Milt. 

"With  square  finances,"  I  sang. 

"And  sane  salaries,"  Milt  went  on. 

"And  a  home  in  Hollywood,"  says  I. 

"With  a  swimming  pool  and  a  projecting  room!" 
yelled  Milt. 

"And  mommer  to  live  with  us !"  says  I. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so!"  says  Milt. 

And  at  that  very  minute  we  realized  somebody  was 
knocking  on  the  door,  and  who  would  it  be,  speaking 
of  angels,  but  mommer  herself. 

From  the  way  she  entered  the  room  I  at  once  seen 
something  out  of  the  ordinary  was  up,  for  not  alone 
did  she  close  the  door  after  herself  in  a  mysterious 
manner,  and  then  take  up  a  commanding  position,  but 
commenced  mugging  at  us  in  a  attempt  to  register  the 


338  Laughter  Limited 

possession  of  a  big  secret.  But  I  was  in  no  mood  for 
any  nonsense,  so  I  just  flung  myself  at  her  and  give 
her  a  big  kiss  on  each  cheek. 

"Oh,  mommer  darling!"  I  says.  "What  do  you 
think?  I  and  Milton  are  going  to  be  married!" 

"My  land!"  says  mommer.  "You  don't  expect  me 
to  be  surprised  at  that,  do  you?  But  I'm  real  glad, 
hon,  honest  I  am,  although  now  of  course  you  will  be 
through  with  me.  They  say  it's  an  ill  wind  that  blows 
nobody  good,  but  I'll  say  not  when  it  blows  out  the 
last  match !" 

"Now,  mommer !"  I  says  tenderly.  "Don't  you  pull 
any  pathetic  stuff  about  being  a  last  match,  because  we 
are  not  going  to  let  you  go.  You  are  coming  to  live 
with  us!" 

"No,  Bonnie,  dearie,  I'm  going  to  do  no  such  thing!" 
says  she  promptly.  "You  certainly  are  a  good  daugh- 
ter to  me,  the  best  I  ever  had,  in  fact.  But  I  always 
say  it's  a  wise  child  who  knows  when  to  go  no  further. 
And  I  got  other  plans  for  myself." 

"Why,  mommer!"  says  I,  drawing  away  from  her. 
And  as  I  got  a  full-length  view  of  mommer  I  realized 
for  the  first  time  the  big  change  in  her  appearance. 

For  gone  was  mommer's  long  skirts  and  modest  dark 
colors.  She  was  dolled  in  oyster-gray  satin  up  pretty 
near  to  her  knees,  and  high-heeled  slippers  and  silk 
stockings  to  match,  and  a  snappy  little  hat  of  yellow 
flowers  perched  on  the  one  side  of  her  stylishly  dressed 
hair.  How  I  had  come  not  to  notice  all  this  first  shot 
can  only  be  accounted  for  by  me  being  blind  and  selfish, 
like  most  folks  in  love. 


Laughter  Limited  339 

"Why,  mommer!"  I  says,  gasping.  "How  sweet 
you  look,  and  how  snappy!" 

Mommer  blushed  like  a- girl  and  backed  off  towards 
the  door.  With  her  hand  on  the  knob  she  give  a  dra- 
matic pause. 

"I  got  a  little  surprise  for  you  all,"  she  says,  "and  I 
guess  I  will  now  bring  it  in !"  And  with  that  she  pulls 
open  the  teakwood,  and  in  walks  pop. 

Well,  I  had  been  sort  of  prepared  for  it  to  be  him 
on  account  I  am  no  dumb-bell,  or  blind  either.  But  I 
was  far  from  expecting  the  pop  which  showed.  As  he 
come  into  the  room  I  could  scarcely  believe  my  eyes, 
for  if  Adele  was  dressed  up  like  a  peahen,  believe  me 
pop  was  like  a  peacock,  and  then  some.  From  the 
crown  of  his  green  plush  hat,  which  was  set  jauntily 
on  the  one  side  of  his  varnished  hair,  to  the  soles  of 
his  natty  shoes  with  the  pearl-gray  spats,  pop  was  some 
plush  horse !  He  had  a  gardenia  in  his  buttonhole  and 
a  two-carat  stone  in  his  tie,  and  the  smile  on  his  face 
was  as  smug  as  the  Sphinx  itself! 

"Well,  well,  Bonnie  dearie!"  says  he,  swinging  in 
and  parking  a  huge  silver-mounted  cane  on  Milt's  desk 
along  with  his  new  yellow  gloves  and  his  lid.  "Well, 
well,  all!  I  expect  maybe  you  are  surprised  at  your 
old  pop  now,  hey,  daughter  dear  ?  And  you,  Mr.  Sher- 
rill !  Sure  it's  a  real  treat  to  meet  you  on  equal  terms 
at  last!" 

"Pop!"  says  I.  "For  heaven's  sake,  explain.  And 
as  for  equal  terms  with  Milt,  you  need  not  think  you 
can  sass  him  just  because  I  am  going  to  marry  him!" 

"Marry  him,  are  ye?"  says  pop  genially.     "Is  that 


340  Laughter  Limited 

so  ?  Well,  well,  now  I  couldn't  have  chosen  better  for 
ye  myself!" 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  McFadden !"  says  Milt.  "Sit  down 
everybody,  do !" 

"Pop,  don't  be  a  fool!"  says  I.  "Those  clothes— 
that  pin  !  If  you  took  them  from  Adele,  I'll — well,  I'll 
murder  you,  that's  all !" 

"From  Adele?"  says  pop  with  dignity.  "Daughter, 
I  am  surprised  at  your  injustice  to  your  parent.  Sure 
I  bought  them  things  with  my  own  money !" 

"My  Gawd !"  I  says  feebly. 

"It's  the  truth !"  chimed  in  Adele.  "He  did,  honey. 
They  have  found  oil  on  his  ranch !" 

"Pop!"  says  I  feebly.  "To  think  of  that — you  to 
strike  oil  and  get  rich  after  all  your  laziness !  It's  too 
much!" 

"Daughter,"  says  pop  slowly  and  with  great  dignity, 
"I  don't  know  why  you  are  doubtful  of  me  the  way 
you  are !  It  has  been  hard  work  getting  this  fortune  of 
mine,  and  all  your  life  I've  told  ye  I'd  do  it  some  day !" 

"Oh,  the  poor  man!"  Adele  broke  in.  "What  he 
says  is  true,  dear.  He  actually  did  go  to  work  on  that 
real-estate  proposition  and  cleared  the  land  with  his 
own  hands.  Then  he  started  drilling  an  artesian  well, 
to  get  a  water  supply  for  the  lots,  and  struck  oil." 

"It's  a  gusher,"  says  pop  with  extreme  dignity. 
"Bringing  me  around  eight  hundred  dollars  a  day  for 
the  past  week.  And  we  got  two  more  wells  started." 

Suddenly  he  leaned  over  me,  the  realest  look  in  his 
eyes  I  had  ever  seen  there. 

"Bonnie,"  says  he,  "you  told  your  old  father  the 


Laughter  Limited  341 

truth.  And  the  very  first  time  in  my  life  I  ever  went 
to  work  made  me  a  rich  man.". 

"And  got  him  a  wife !"  says  Adele.  "Oh,  hon,  we 
was  married  this  afternoon,  and  I'm  really  your  mom- 
mer  now.  I  do  hope  it  won't  make  any  difference  be- 
tween us,  dearie  ?" 

"Adele !"  says  I.  "Not  much !  With  you  really  in 
the  family,  and  Milton  for  my  very  own  I  am  as 
happy  as — as  a  dumb-bell!" 

"Well,"  says  mommer  with  a  sentimental  sigh,  "they 
say  there's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life  as  love's  young 
dream ;  and  I'll  say  they're  right !" 


THE  END 


Him  mi 

A     000128037    9 


